


The Gods Favor Me

by o_rcrist



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:00:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 24,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_rcrist/pseuds/o_rcrist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron returns to Nasir after the burning of the arena, and they both provide comfort and love to each other, while trying to keep the rebellion alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Reunion

"They live" shouted one of the men. Nasir’s head snapped up and he quickly got to his feet, scanning the courtyard for Agron.

"What news?" another cried out as the men returned.

“The arena is burned to fucking ground, with many Romans among the ashes!” shouted the unmistakable voice of Agron. 

Finally Nasir saw him, “you suffer no wound?”

Agron grinned and walked toward him, “The gods favor me, little man.”

"Call me that again and they shall turn from you,” Nasir replied with a laugh and took Agrons face in his hands, pulling the gladiators lips down to meet his. 

Nasir savored the taste of Agrons lips upon his. It ended to soon, as it always did. Agron threw his arm around Nasirs shoulders. “How fares your wound?” he asked, motioning towards Nasir’s side.

“A day or two more and it shall be as if the Roman sword had never struck” he happily replied. Agron laughed again and together they went to sit against the temple wall. A group of the freed slaves immediately clustered around them, insisting that Agron tell how they had brought the arena to the ground.

Before Agron could begin the tale, Spartacus reappeared. Nasir knew he had come to consult with Agron on some new plan and sighed. He had hoped for a longer reunion with his German. Agrons face reflected the same frustration with the Thracian. He nodded and before getting up whispered in Nasir’s ear, "Tonight we shall have a proper reunion." Nasir grinned as Agron walked away.

Looking around the temple, he watched as Chadara eyed the men. No doubt looking for a new man to see her to position. Although he counted her as friend, he had never approved of how she acted as a common whore. He dismissed the thought from his head, knowing that any words of caution he gave her would go unheeded. The gods themselves could not stop her.

Nasir leaned against the wall, keeping an eye on Agron as he conversed with Spartacus, the map laid between them. For now he was content with watching his German, pleased that he had returned to him alive and unscathed.

A few candles were lit on a small table, there bed against the far wall. They sat on the bed facing each other, and while Nasir ate, Agron told him how they had brought down the mighty arena with nothing more than fire.

As he finished Nasir grinned, “The entire republic cowers from what you have done.”

Agron took Nasir’s face in his hand, “The gods themselves cower in the face of us” and brought his lips once more to Nasirs. Nasir leaned into the kiss, and into Agron, pushing his small body against the larger mans. Agron wrapped his other arm around Nasir and pulled him down on top of him. They kissed for long moment, only coming up for air when necessary.

As Agron’s hand moved up and down Nasir’s side, it mistakenly brushed against his wound. Nasir tried to hide his grimace, but he could hide nothing from his German. Agron instantly removed his hand and looked down at Nasir’s side, concern in his eyes. “Apologies. I did not mean to cause pain.”

“The lack of your touch causes more pain, than the Romans fucking sword,” Nasir replied, irritated.

Nasir wrapped his arms around Agron’s shoulders pulling him down closer to him. Agrons chest made contact with Nasir’s wound, and again Nasir winced in pain.

Agron pushed himself up on his forearms, so that his weight was no longer on Nasir. “Patience, little man. I will not have you further hurt yourself.” Nasir groaned in frustration, which Agron silenced with a kiss. Agron rolled to his side and Nasir rolled to face him. “Soon enough your wound will no longer ache, and then nothing shall stop us.” Nasir nodded in agreement, knowing he could never sway Agron from his decision.

Agron leaned his forehead against Nasir’s and Nasir closed his eyes, listening as his and Agron’s breathe became one. Agron gently ran his hand along Nasirs neck, his breathing slow and calm. He opened his dark eyes, and met blue ones. Smiles broke out on both their faces and they laughed together. A cool breeze came through the entrance of their room, and despite the heat from their bodies, they both shivered from it. Agron leaned over and pulled a blanket out from under the bed, then raised himself to blow out the candles.

As the light disappeared, Agron pulled the blanket over the both of them, and they drew closer together. Sleep quickly began to overtake the both. Nasir pulled himself closer to Agron, placing his head upon Agrons chest, as Agrons arm gently wrapped around him. They silently fell asleep, each dreaming of the other. 


	2. Hasty Return

Nasir gently wiped the blood from Agron’s chin, as the gladiator glared at nothing in particular. “What words did you say, that provoked Crixus?”

“I only sought to offer my apologies for the lie I told him.”

Nasir nodded, “You still have not answered my question.” His eyes bored into Agrons, demanding an answer.

Agron sighed in defeat, “He still holds me at fault, for allowing Naevia to suffer in the mines for another day. I grew angry and let words tumble from mouth before thinking.”

Nasir wiped the last of the blood away, and took Agrons face in his hands, commanding the gladiator’s attention. “Give him time. Naevia has suffered much at the hands of the Romans, and she is no longer the woman Crixus knew. He does not know yet how to help her.” Agron nodded in agreement, giving Nasir a small smile. Nasir leaned in and planted a kiss on his lips, taking Agrons hands in his and pinning them against the wall. A small chuckle came from Agron from lips, before being swallowed by the Syrian.

As they broke apart, Agron made to get up. “You leave for Neapolis now?” Nasir questioned, pressing his full weight against Agron, not wanting to let him get up. Agron had just returned to him, and he did not wish to see Agron leave the temple walls again, not so soon.

The gladiator allowed himself to be pushed back, a grin on his face “We shall be back by nightfall. We only go to discover when the next slave ships shall make port, so that we might swell our ranks.”

Nasir frowned in displeasure, “Any plans of ours have a tendency to go wrong.”

Agron could not argue with him, but still tried to reassure Nasir. “This is a simple task. We are to portray ourselves as merchants looking for new slaves. Quite a common thing, in a city of trade.”

Nasir glared at his stubborn German, “very well. Just be quick about it.” He released Agron, crossing his arms and scowling as he watched Agron gather his things. Agron pulled out a strip of cloth and messily wrapped it around the brand of Batiatus. Nasir shook his head and climbed off the bed, taking Agrons arm in his hands. “You should take better care with this. If your brand is seen, all your plans will fall to ruin,” he chastised Agron.

The gladiator rolled his eyes, “None will see it. We all take care to make sure they remain hidden.” Nasir glared at him half-heartedly before turning his eyes to the work at hand. He unwound the strip, and carefully rewrapped it, making sure it was wound tightly enough so that it would not slip, and give Agron away. As he finished, Agron pulled Nasir to his chest, “Calm yourself, I shall be back in your arms soon enough.”

Nasir smiled, “Go then, and make a hasty return.” 


	3. Heavy Heart

Agron found Nasir in their room, sitting on their bed. Nasir did not stir but remained silent, grieving the death of his friend. Agron noticed Nasir was shaking slightly as he sat beside him. He took one of Nasir’s hands and gently squeezed it. Nasir squeezed back, leaning against Agrons chest. The Syrians body was cold and damp from the rain. Agron eased Nasir out of his coat and pulled the blanket from the edge of the bed over Nasir. He hated to see Nasir with such sadness in him. While he himself had never favored Chadara, he knew Nasir had been close friends with her.

Agron quietly said, “It is a heavy thing, to lose one you held close to heart.” He let the words linger, waiting to see if Nasir would answer.

It was several moments before Nasir quietly responded, “It makes it heavier, knowing that she intended to betray us all.”

Agron sighed. “As Mira said, she felt she had no place among us. Her actions were one of desperation, not to be taken to heart.” Agron knew his words would be of little comfort. Others had spoken similar words to him after Duro fell. It had taken Agron weeks to overcome his initial grief. Agron felt a drop hit his chest and looked down at Nasir. Tears were silently sliding down his face. Agron gently wiped them away, putting his lips to his Syrians forehead and pulling him closer. Nasir said no more, and Agron let silence take them.

Night slowly passed and as dawn approached, Nasir’s breathing became slower and quieter. Agron looked down and a small smile formed on his face. Nasir had finally allowed sleep to take him. Agron gently eased Nasir down onto the bed beside him, and pulled Nasir closer to him. Agron pushed a stray bit of hair from Nasir’s face, and just as he was willing to allow sleep to claim himself, he heard the woven mat part. He looked over his shoulder, and was surprised to find Mira standing there.

 She motioned for Agron to follow her. He quietly left the room, and walked a ways down the hall. Finally she spoke. “How does he fare,” she asked, concern in her voice.

“His heart weighs heavy for now, in time it shall heal, as all wounds do.”

Mira sighed. “I did not aim to kill, Agron. I only wished to wound.”

Agron nodded, and glanced back down the hall towards there room. He did not wish Nasir to wake alone. “He holds no anger towards you. He only holds it for Chadaras betrayal.”

Mira nodded. “Spartacus will not call for you or Nasir today; I will make sure of it.” Agron gave her in small smile in gratitude, and returned to Nasir.

~~*~~

Hours later Agron awoke with a start, the space that had been occupied by Nasir was now empty and cold. As he struggled to untangle himself from the blanket, he heard a familiar laugh behind him. “You can bring down the arena, but you cannot best a blanket?” Agron turned and saw Nasir sitting against the wall next to the woven mats. A grin was on Nasir’s face, but Agron could still see the pain it masked. To the others Nasir would appear over his friend’s death, but Nasir could hide little from Agrons eyes.

He grinned in return though, “Thoughts for you, little man, are what allowed it to best me.”

Nasir smiled at the pet name, “I warned you not to call me that.”

Agron sat in front of Nasir and took the Syrains face in his hands. “And how shall you stop me?” he teased and brought his lips to Nasir’s. The Syrian took Agrons face in his hands and pulled him closer. Agron loved the taste of Nasir’s lips, and savored the kiss. When they broke apart, they held each other’s eyes.

Although Agron hated to bring up the events from the previous night, he had to know how Nasir was coping. “How fares your heart?” he quietly asked.

Nasir let out a long sigh, “Heavy, but it will lighten in time.” Agron nodded, relieved to find Nasir no longer engulfed by grief that had overtaken him last night.

“Know that you shall always find comfort in my arms.” Nasir gave a small smile, gratitude in his eyes.

“Come,” said Agron as he stood up, “let us find food and drink.” He offered his hand to Nasir, and pulled him up.

“Wine would be better served now,” Nasir said, surprising Agron. His Syrian had never been one to purposefully seek out wine. Agron immediately understood though. After Duro had been struck down by the Romans, Agron had spent many nights after drowning himself in wine, seeking an escape.

Agron sighed, shaking his head as he took Nasir’s hands in his. “You shall find no comfort in wine, a lesson I have learned many times.”

Nasir nodded, “Apologies, I act as if I am the first to suffer loss in this cause.”

Agron shook his head, “You need not offer them.” They stayed there for a moment in silence. Agron saw a burning question in Nasirs brown eyes. “Ask what you wish Nasir.”

Nasir looked down, unable to meet the blue eyes above him. He hesitated for a moment, and then quietly asked, “How do you fare? With Duro’s death?” Agron felt a stab of pain in his chest. Nasir had not mentioned his brother since they had been at the villa. Nasir slowly brought his eyes to meet Agrons.

He sighed. “I mourn his loss, but I know I shall see him again in the afterlife,” he answered quietly. Nasir gently took Agrons face in his hands, bringing their foreheads together.

He felt Nasir wipe his thumb across his face, wiping away the tears he had not noticed. Nasir quietly spoke, “We shall honor their deaths, with the blood of Romans upon our swords.” 


	4. Calm Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bradán is my own creation.

“The treacherous cunt deserved what she got”.

Nasir flew from Agron’s side before he could stop him, and tackled the gladiator who had spoken to the ground.

Bradán. The gladiator was about as heartless as they came, never holding a second thought for any but himself. It was no surprise that none of his brothers would offer him any assistance. He would face Nasir’s wrath alone.

Nasir punched Bradán’s face as they hit the ground, producing a crunch so loud everyone in the courtyard could hear it. The gladiator threw Nasir off him, and scrambled to his feet, cursing and aiming a kick at Nasir. Agron started to push forward so he might intervene, and stop Nasir before he hurt himself, but Spartacus stopped him.

“Let Nasir teach him a lesson.” Agron nodded but never took his eyes from Nasir. The Syrian avoided the gladiator’s fist again, and threw his in return, knocking Bradán into the wall. Agron could see the burning fire in his eyes, the fury at the gladiator who had dared to insult his friend. The gladiator swung again, and made contact with Nasir’s face. Agron winced as the blow landed, itching to stop the fight. Blood was dripping from Nasir’s mouth. A second blow knocked Nasir to the ground, and he quickly rolled to the side, but not fast enough to avoid Bradáns kick to his side. He tumbled across the courtyard, and pushed himself up on to his feet. Agron could see blood staining the bandage on Nasir’s side. He growled in anger, his fists clenching.

Nasir hissed, as Bradán laughed at him. “Do not challenge those who are your better, little dog.” He turned away from Nasir, as if to declare the fight over. It was far from done though. Nasir immediately charged him, knocking him back into the sand. He pinned Bradáns arms in place with his knees, his fists pounding into the gladiators face. Words foreign in origin were flying from the Syrians mouth, and Agron had a good notion of what they meant.

Agron glanced over at Spartacus; the Thracians face was full of awe. Spartacus met his eyes, and gave a small nod. He ran and grabbed Nasir from behind, pulling him off of Bradán, while Spartacus stood over the gladiator, preventing him trying to get at Nasir. Curses were flying from both men’s mouths, as well as blood. “Nasir!” Agron grunted, restraining the Syrian was proving far more difficult than he thought. Nasir took no notice of him, his eyes still glaring at Bradán.  Agron wrapped his arms around Nasir, holding him firmly in place, as he dragged him from the courtyard and into the temple.

Agron only released Nasir when he entered their room, and blocked the door with his large frame. Nasir tried to get around him, but Agron was just as fast, grabbing him around the waist and tossing him onto their bed. “Let me go,” Nasir panted as he got up, glaring at Agron.

“Not until you have regained your senses.”

 It was a strange thing to find themselves like so. Agron had a temper that rivaled the gods, and once unleashed it was difficult to reign back in again. Nasir had proved to be the only one who could successfully calm him. Instead now he found himself strangely calm and Nasir in a rage.

“You heard what he called Chadara! He had no right!” Agron shook his head, “Have you not been around gladiators enough? You know well enough, that we rarely think before words tumble from our mouths.” He knew that Bradán would have said the words either way, had he thought about them before hand or not, but did not tell Nasir.

Nasir opened his mouth to argue, but Agron spoke again. “You have taught Bradán a lesson, one he shall not soon forget.” Nasir groaned, and nodded. Agron went to the corner, where they kept a thing of water. Nasir tried to dart around him again, and Agron just managed to catch him by the arm, tossing him onto the bed once more. This time he put his weight onto Nasir, and pinning the smaller man down. Nasir struggled to free himself, but it was no use. Agron was stronger and bigger, and would not budge. “Look at me Nasir,” he said gently, his blue eyes waiting. Eventually Nasir’s brown eyes met his, and he felt the Syrian relax underneath his grip. “Take a breath, and collect your thoughts.” Nasir nodded, closing his eyes as he let out a long breath. When his eyes opened again, the fire in them had dimmed, but it would be a long while before it was extinguished.

Agron pulled himself off Nasir and went to retrieve the bowl of water. He kept his eyes on his stubborn Syrian, as he righted himself on the bed. Agron thought he might attempt to run again, but he stayed where he was, a scowl on his face. Agron retrieved a clean cloth from under the bowl, and set them next to the wall on the bed.

He knelt next to Nasir, and slowly unwound the bandage around his abdomen. Nasir hissed slightly, part of the cloth was stuck in the freshly opened wound. Agron dipped a rag in the water, and held it just above the wound, squeezing it so the water would run down his side. Slowly the bandage came loose, and Agron gently pulled it off Nasir. He sighed, the wound had not fully reopened, but a steady stream of blood still flowed from it. He could see the bruise further darkening Nasir’s skin where Bradán had viciously kicked him.

“Lay down,” Agron told Nasir. The Syrian lay back on their bed, curling on his side as Agron held a dry rag to the wound, slowing the flow of blood so that it would scab over. It took several minutes for it to do so, and several more before Agron was convinced it would not break open again if Nasir sat up.

Nasir pulled himself up, the scowl still on his face.

Agron took Nasirs face in one of his hands, gently turning his face so he could see the damage Bradán had inflicted. Nasir’s eyes would not meet his. He remained silent as Agron dipped the cloth in the water, and set to gently wiping the blood from his Syrians mouth. Nasirs lip had been split; Agron suspected that he had bitten the inside of his mouth also, when the trickle of blood did not stop. He wet the cloth once again, and held the cold cloth against the bruised side of Nasirs face.

Nasir pulled away from the cloth. “You should not make such a fuss.”

Agron chuckled, “I am not making a fuss, I am making sure that you do not bleed to death.” Nasir still scowled, not amused with the jest. He knew what would chase that scowl away though.

“You earned much respect today, for putting Bradán in his place. Many men, gladiators included, would not have dared to raise a fist to him.” He could see the hint of a smile tugging at the Syrians lips. “Even Spartacus was in awe with what you did.” Nasir cracked, a smile spreading across his face.

“It is a strange thing, for you to be the one calming the rage in me.”

Agron laughed, “It is, but I like the fire that you have within you.”


	5. Nightmares

_Duros eyes looked up into Agrons. He pulled the sword from his brother’s chest, his heart clenching when Duro whimpered in pain. Duro hands were clenched over the wound, his life pouring from him, his blood pooling behind him. He begged to the Gods, to anyone,_ Don’t let him die. _But the Gods had abandoned him. Agron was helpless to watch as the life left his brothers eyes, leaving him alone in this world._

_He watched as Nasir attacked the Roman shit, avoiding the swipe of his blade, only to watch as the Roman plunged it into Nasirs chest. The Syrian cried out in pain, clutching at his side as he fell to the ground. He ran to Nair, pulling him into his arms. He pressed his hand against Nasir’s wound, but the blood still flowed from under his hand, faster than before. The light was fading from Nasirs eyes._

Agron bolted up, his breathing ragged and difficult. He was covered in sweat. He quickly turned and found Nasir beside him, the blanket pushed to his feet. A few stray hairs lay over his face, moving slightly with each breath he took. Agrons gaze turned to Nasir’s abdomen, the bandage had shifted in his sleep, and he could see scar on his side. He heaved a sigh of relief. Nasir was alive. _A nightmare, nothing more,_ he thought. Still he could not return to sleep. He rubbed at his eyes, his dreams still haunting him. It had been weeks since the last one, and he had thought himself free of them.

Nasir stirred next to him and turned to face Agron in his sleep. His arm reached for Agron, but when his arms found naught but empty space, Nasir opened his eyes, quickly glancing around. “What calls you from sleep?” he quietly asked, stifling a yawn.

Agron gave him a small smile. “It is nothing. Return to sleep and your dreams.”

Nasir sat up and moved next to Agron, placing his hand on the gladiator’s chest. “Your heart would say otherwise,” he simply said, his eyes quickly taking in Agrons disheveled state. “What ails you? And do not attempt lie and say it is nothing.” Nasirs brown eyes fixed on Agrons face, waiting for an answer. Agron could not meet Nasir’s eyes though. He focused on his hands, clasping them together to stop them from shaking.

“It is burden I would place on no one but myself,” Agron replied quietly. He did not wish Nasir to share his guilt in Duro’s death, or the guilt he harbored from abandoning Nasir and the others on their attempt on the mines. The guilt was his burden, his _punishment_.

Nasir moved to sit in front of Agron, placing himself between his knees. He gently took Agron’s face in his hands, and pulled it up, so that his face was level with Nasirs. He still refused to meet Nasir’s eyes; he did not want the Syrian to see the shame and guilt in them. “I would rather you share burden, than have it consume you.” Agron felt Nasir run his thumb across his cheek. “Please.”

Agron let out a heavy sigh. “Memories of the past haunt my dreams,” Agron admitted, “memories of blood, and guilt. It has been weeks since they last came to me, I thought myself rid of them.”

“What guilt do you hold, that burdens you so?” Nasir asked. Nasir moved closer to him, only a few inches separated them now. Agron could no longer avoid Nasir’s gaze, with him being so close. Blue eyes finally met brown ones. The warmth and love in them gave him the courage to reveal the truth to Nasir, when he normally would have kept it to himself.

He took Nasir’s hands in his. “Guilt over Duros death,” he said quietly, “and guilt from abandoning you,” he finished in a whisper, barely audible. Nasir was quiet for a moment, his face thoughtful.

“You should not harbor such guilt. Duro’s death was not your fault, it was the Romans. He died, knowing that he had saved _you._ Knowing that you would have done the same for him. Knowing that you loved him.” Tears formed in Agrons eyes, and Nasir wiped them away.  “And you did not abandon me to the mines. The choice was mine alone to go there. It was my choice, knowing that I might not return. I would not have you feel guilt for my decision, just as Duro would not have you feel guilt for his.”

Agron nodded in understanding. It made his heart swell, to know that Nasir cared for him so.  Agron loved how Nasir saw everything in him, how they could hide nothing from each other. He leaned forward, touching his forehead to Nasir’s. Silence took them for a few minutes, Agrons breathing finally slowing as it matched Nasir’s. He let out a deep breath, and with it, the remainder of his guilt.

Nasir brought his lips to Agrons. “I told you burden would be better shared,” he whispered against them when they parted.

Agron gave his Syrian a small smile. “The burden is gone, thanks to loving words.” He wrapped his arms tightly around Nasir’s waist, pulling him to his chest as he lay back down. Nasir pulled himself up to Agrons face, bringing his lips to the Germans once again. Agron kept one arm firmly around Nasir’s waist, while his other hand ran through the Syrians dark hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. When they surfaced for air, Nasir placed one hand upon Agrons face. The German closed his eyes, savoring the touch.

“Sleep now,” said Nasir, brushing his lips against Agrons closed eyes, “and dream of what the future holds.”

Agron felt Nasir shift slightly, and could feel the blanket being pulled over them both. He wrapped his arms tighter around Nasir, and soon fell to sleep, dreaming of the Syrian in his arms.


	6. Promises

Agron was absently running his hands through Nasir’s hair. “You should be sleeping,” murmured Nasir, his eyes still closed. A laugh rumbled through Agrons chest, causing Nasir to smile.

“As should you, little man.”

Nasir opened his eyes, leaning his head up so he might see Agron. “You attack the port before dawn, you need sleep more than I do,” Nasir gently chastised his gladiator. Agron laughed again, and pulled Nasir onto his chest. Nasir crossed his arms over his Germans chest, resting his chin upon them. Even in the dark, Nasir quickly noticed the mischief in Agrons eyes. Agron seemed to realize he had given something away, but did not attempt to hide the look in his eyes.

“What do you hide, that presents mischief in your eyes?” Nasir questioned. “I hope not another attempt to anger the Gaul’s,” he teased.

Agron grinned. “I know not what you speak of,” he countered, and silenced Nasir’s argument with a kiss. The kiss left Nasir breathless, as they always did. But he did not lose his sense.

“Lies,” he whispered, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Nasir knew that he could pry anything from Agron, if he begged long enough. “Your heart gives you away, you know more than you have told me and the others about the ship that shall dock in the harbor.” Nasir placed his hand over his gladiator’s heart; its beat was fast and erratic, proving his point.

Agron placed his hand over Nasirs, intertwining their fingers. “You shall find out tomorrow, when we return from Neapolis.”

A surprise. Nasir _hated_ surprises. His Dominus had loved them, and they had often involved his body slave. His German looked at him questioningly, “What is wrong? Do you not favor surprises?”

Memories of his old life flashed before his eyes, ones of cruel hands and crueler demands. He buried his head in Agrons chest, fearing that even in the dark, he would not be able to hide his eyes from Agron. The memories threatened to overtake him, and a shudder wracked his body before he could stop it.

“Nasir?!” The voice jolted him from the awful memories, back into the loving arms that wrapped around him protectively.

He opened his eyes as one of Agrons hands gently lifted his face. Blue eyes that moments ago had been brimming with mischief and laughter were now filled with concern. Nasir tried to turn his gaze from Agrons, but the gladiator would not let him. Nasir took a breath to steady himself, and met the blue ones focused on him. “No, I do not favor surprises.” He hoped to end the matter there, but just as Agron could hide nothing from Nasir, Nasir could hide nothing from Agron. The Syrian sighed, trying to form words that would quickly explain, “My dominus…..his guests……..for entertainment.” Agrons eyes quickly filled with understanding, and he clutched Nasir tighter against his chest.

“Apologies,” Agron whispered, his lips brushing aginst Nasir’s forehead, “I did not know.”

He shook his head, and looked up at Agron, a small smile on his face. “You owe me none,” placing his lips to Agrons. They kissed for several moments, and when their lips parted, Agron gave a small chuckle.

“Let us make an agreement, I shall tell you what excites me so, if you promise to let me show you what a true surprise is,” the mischief back in his eyes.

Nasir could easily discern the deeper meaning to Agron’s proposal, and a grin took his face, matching the one on Agrons. “Agreed,” Nasir replied with a laugh of his own.

Nasir crossed his arms on Agrons chest, waiting for the promised explanation. “The ship we intend to liberate, is brimming with men from east of the Rhine. _My_ lands, _my_ people. With them recruited to our cause, we shall soon be able to face the Romans again,” Agron explained, his grin threatening to split his face in two. A grin broke out on Nasir’s face again; it lifted his heart to see Agron so excited.

Although Agron had never mentioned it, Nasir knew how much his gladiator missed his homeland. He had often heard Agron mutter in the tongue of his people, when he was deep asleep. “They shall be a welcome addition to our ranks,” he replied. Their lips met in a kiss once again, and Nasir wrapped his arms around his gladiators’ shoulders. As they parted, Nasir still held his lips close to Agrons. “When will you show me what a true surprise is?” his brown eyes fixed on blue ones.

Agron tightened his grip around the Syrians waist, and he flipped Nasir onto his back, and looked down at him. He brought his lips to Nasir’s ear, and whispered “soon.” 


	7. Flared Tempers

Nasir spent the day at Agrons side, as he conversed with his people. Although he did not understand what was being said, he still smiled. Every once in a while Agron would lean down and translate what the others had said in his ear, and Nasir would reply back with Agron translating. Nasir found his spirits lifted, seeing how easily the Germans laughed and how they embraced him as a brother.

As the day passed though, his side began to irritate him in greater intensity. Night had fallen when he could take it no more. He quietly left the group around the fire, and retreated to his and Agrons room. He shed his vest and his hands tore at the bandage wrapped around his waist, until he was free of it. He had expected to see his wound reopened and bleeding, for what else could have caused the irritation? But as he looked down he saw his wound had remained closed. He glanced down at the bandage and found the source of the irritation. Small flecks of dried skin were stuck to the inside of it. The burn had at last scabbed over, the itch coming from the new skin appearing underneath it. He ran his hand over it, a small smile forming on his face. _At last_ , he thought.

“Has your wound reopened?” asked a familiar voice, and strong arms wrapped around his waist, overlapping with Nasir’s.

He looked up, his grin widening. “Quite the opposite,” said Nasir as he turned in Agrons arms. Agron looked down at Nasir’s waist, and he watched as the gladiators gaze took in the new skin beginning to show.

“Quite the opposite,” Agron agreed, a smile tugging at his lips.

Nasir laughed, “Let us rejoin your brethren.” Even in there room, they could still here the liberated Germans loud voices. He took the gladiators hand in his and started for the door. He did not get far before strong arms pulled him back though, into the gladiator’s chest. Nasir looked up in surprise; he had thought Agron would want to return to them as quickly as possible.

Agrons eyes were not focused on his, but instead absently stared at the wall. Nasir recognized the look in his eyes.“What has angered you?”

Agron released Nasir and stalked over to the wall, slamming his fist into it. “Spartacus. I aid him in leading this rebellion, yet he treats me with scorn for choosing to liberate a ship of my people, instead of one full of fucking _Gaul’s_.” Nasir sighed. Agrons hatred of the Gaul’s often bested him. He was ready with words to calm him, when Agron continued his rant, “He doubts the worth of them, and holds me accountable for their actions now. I risk fucking exposure in Neapolis to gain the knowledge of the ships, and _this_ is my thanks.”

Nasir quickly opened his mouth, “Agron, why did you not tell Spartacus?” He knew the question would anger Agron, and it showed in his face.

“Why does it matter? Our ranks have doubled in a single day; they are fighting men who can be trusted.”

Nasir could feel his temper rising, a rare thing. “Is Crixus not an honorable man?”

Agron glared at him. “Crixus knows honor _only_ because of Naevia, others like him, they are but beasts, devoid of any thought but that which would see them to blood and cunt.”

Nasir met the anger in Agrons eyes with the anger in his own. “You let old grievances cloud your judgment. Any man we free will be a welcome addition to our ranks.”

Agrons eyes flashed in defiance. “You side with Spartacus in this matter?”

Nasir could hear the hurt in Agrons voice, but was not swayed by it. “I agree with Spartacus, _only_ in the matter that you should have told him of all ships making port.” Nasir had no doubts that Agrons people would prove themselves worthy.

“I should have known you would not understand this. You have no knowledge of what it is like to be among your own people. Your words are from man who is more Roman than Syrian,” spat Agron. 

Nasir looked at him in disbelief. How could he say such a thing?

Agron’s gaze quickly softened. “Nasir, I-“ but it was too late.

Nasir stormed from the room, his feet taking him through the temple and beyond its walls, into the darkness. He kicked at a nearby rock, and sent it flying through the trees. He sat down on a stump, cursing angrily. “Fucking German.” Although he knew little of his native tongue, he knew enough to curse in it. He pulled out the dagger he carried and slashed it against the stump. He heard someone walking towards him in the woods. He picked up a rock at his feet, and as the figure made himself visible in the moonlight, he threw it. His aim was true, hitting the man hard in the chest.

“Fuck” he heard Agron curse.

The Syrian smiled in satisfaction. He picked up another rock, and tossed it in his hand for good measure. The German raised his hands in surrender. “Please, Nasir just let me speak.” Nasir glared at him, the stone not leaving his hand.

“I did not mean what I said. Words tumbled from mouth without thinking. I know what I have done wrong, and would see it righted.” Agron was slowly making his way toward him. Nasir threw the rock he held, a clear warning to stay away. Agron dodged it, but did not move forward.

“You think me more Roman, than Syrian? After all I have done?” Agrons comment had been as a knife to the chest, cutting deep. It would take more than a few words to heal. He watched as the gladiator sighed, and shook his head.

“Words that I deeply regret.” Nasir looked up at Agron, noting the strange tone in his voice. “Please, Nasir.” Agron was pleading with him. Nasir stayed on the stump, turning the stone in his hand. They Syrian could feel the Germans eyes on him, waiting for forgiveness. He would not grant it, not yet.

“I was angry that you sided with Spartacus. I had thought you would side with me, and when you did not I was hurt and I wanted to make you feel what I felt.”

~~*~~

Agron waited, for any response from Nasir. He felt awful for what he had said to the man. Nasir had been right of course, but he had let his temper best him.

“Will you do that every time I do not agree with you? Seek to hurt me, so that I feel your pain?” The question from Nasir rocked Agron to his core. He knew how deep his words had struck. Agron quickly shook his head, and he stepped forward again, keeping a wary eye on the stone in Nasir’s hand. He did not throw it this time, and allowed Agron to approach. He kneeled in front of the Syrian, his blue eyes focused on his face. Nasirs eyes would not meet his, “Never again will I do such a thing.”

He took Nasir’s hands in his own, and waited in agony for Nasir to reply. A few minutes later Nasir sighed, and allowed the stone to fall from his hand. Brown eyes at last met his, “Never again” the Syrian warned. Agron nodded, and Nasir gave him a small smile. He stood up, and pulled Nasir up with him. He placed his hands on Nasirs waist, and was startled to feel a trickle of something warm.  He pulled his hand back, and could see traces of blood on it. His heart clenched again. Nasir had been excited for his wound to finally scab over, and it was Agrons fault it had torn back open again.

Nasir looked down to where Agron was staring, and Agron could see the annoyance on his face. Nasir brushed his hand away, placing his own hand over it instead, blocking it from view. “Let us return to the temple,” and motioned back the way he had come.

Nasir nodded and they slowly made their way back. The Germans had fallen to sleep during their absence, the temple quiet for the first time all day. They carefully stepped around them, and made their way to their room. Nasir made to grab the bandage from the ground, but Agron grabbed it before the Syrian could. Nasir sat on the edge of their bed, while Agron dipped a cloth into the small water bowl at his feet and cleaned the blood from Nasir’s side. He was relieved to find it was not much, and the skin had once again scabbed over where it had broken open. He retrieved the salve from under the bed, and gently smeared it across the burn. He looked closely at the wound, and even though he was no Medicus he still knew what it needed. “You should leave the bandage off tonight, so that your wound might air out.”Nasir nodded in agreement, yawning as he did. Agron yawned as well, the events of the day at last taking their toll on him.

Nasir laughed at the German, as he undid his sandals and tossed them into the corner. Agron grinned, quickly unlacing his boots and throwing them into the corner as well. Agron lay down beside Nasir on the bed, pulling the blanket over them, and blew out the candle that lit the room. Agron wrapped his arms around his Syrian, and pulled him close, with Nasirs head just under his chin. Nasir lifted his head, and Agron knew what he wanted. He brought his lips to meet Nasir’s, his hand caressing the other man’s face.  “I take it I am forgiven then?” Agron asked, a teasing tone in his voice, but he was serious.

Nasir gave a small smirk, “Not yet,” and he pushed his lips to Agrons again. Nasir’s tongue met his, and he relished the taste of it, deepening the kiss. Nasir pulled back, “ _Now_ you are forgiven,” the smirk back on his face. They both burst into laughter, and Agron pulled his Syrian closer to him, and soon Nasir was squirming in his arms. They exchanged several more kisses, and Nasir made himself comfortable against his gladiators chest. He soon fell to sleep, but Agron resisted sleep a little longer, just taking in the beauty of Nasir. The gladiator could only resist for so long, and fell to sleep.

Agron was roused what only felt like moments later. Sedullus was standing over him, a grin on his face. “We hunt?” he asked in broken common tongue.

Agron nodded, and gently untangled himself from Nasir. Sedullus left the room while Agron retrieved his boots and sword. He turned to look at Nasir again before he left, smiling at the sight of him sleeping peacefully. He had pushed the blanket off of himself during the night, and Agron pulled it back over him. He pushed aside a stray hair from Nasirs face, tucking it behind his ear and kissed his forehead.  Nasir smiled in his sleep.  Agron grinned, and quietly left the room to hunt with his brothers. 


	8. And I His

Nasir raised his head as heard someone enter the room. He grinned when he saw Agron. He had left before dawn to hunt with his kin. “You found plenty of meat then?” he asked, slipping on Agrons coat.

“Enough to keep us fed for several days” answered his gladiator, a grin on his face to. Nasir could see some irritation in Agrons eyes again though, similar to what he had seen the night before. 

Agron realized that Nasir had seen it, and when he blinked the look was gone. “It is nothing, merely a disagreement,” he answered in response to Nasir’s questioning gaze. Nasir nodded, he knew Agron was trying to better control his anger, so left the matter alone.

He made to leave the room and find breakfast, when Agron stopped him with a chuckle. He slipped the vest back off Nasir, and pulled out a clean strip of cloth. “The healers will have my cock if your wound is not bandaged during the day.”

Nasir laughed as Agron wrapped the cloth around his waist and secured it in place. “Not before I do.”

Agron laughed and tugged Nasir closer to him, lifting the Syrian in his arms. Nasir wrapped his legs around his gladiator, and found Agrons lips with his. They both began to laugh, foreheads pressed together.

The smell of roasting meat wafted through the door into their room, and Nasirs stomach growled. Excited voices followed the smell, in the German language. Agron laughed as he heard the voices, while Nasir waited in his arms for a translation. He wished he could understand Agrons native tongue, so he could laugh with him. Agron looked down at Nasir, “They are of a joyous mood, with fresh meat, drink, and freedom at their disposal.” Nasir nodded, laughing as well. His stomach growled again, and Agron laughed as he set him down. Nasir put Agrons coat back on again and they left the room, the smell of cooking meat getting stronger as they walked down the hall side by side.

“Agron?” Agron looked at Nasir. “Would you teach me some of your tongue? So that I might understand what they say, and what you mutter in your sleep.”

Agrons face reddened. “Do I resort to my native tongue when I sleep?”

Nasir chuckled, “Quite often actually.”

Agron placed his arms around Nasirs shoulders, a smile on his face. “I will teach you some,” Agron agreed. They entered the courtyard and walked towards the spit where a wild hog was being roasted. The other had already finished and was being sliced up.

Agron and Nasir claimed their share, and sat on the stone steps leading to the temple. Sedullus and several of the other Germams came to sit around them, greeting them. Agron leaned down and whispered in Nasirs ear, “Guten morgen brüder”. Nasir slowly repeated what Agron had said, the words feeling strange on his tongue. The Germans clapped their hands and laughed.

Nasir leaned into Agron and whispered, “What did I say?”

Agron wrapped his arm around Nasirs waist, and answered, “Good morning brothers.”

The Germans were fast learners, quickly picking up words in the common tongue. Agron was able to speak more and more in the common tongue than in his native one, and Nasir was able to join in the conversation at a few points. At one point though, one of the Germans said something in his native tongue, and gestured toward Nasir. The Syrian could feel Agron stiffen at his side. The others looked to Agron for a reply. Nasir looked at him to, waiting. Agron leaned down and whispered quietly in Nasirs ear. Nasir nodded, “Agron gehört mir, und ich ihn. Jeder, der zwischen uns kommt, wird mit Blut bezahlen.”

The German who had spoken nodded, and lowered his eyes. The others smile at Nasir and began to talk among themselves. Nasir looked back to Agron, his eyes questioning. Agron pulled him closer, “Agron belongs to me, and I him. Any who comes between us will pay with blood.” Nasir now understood. The German who had spoken had been interested in him.

Nasir smiled back up at Agron. “Any who comes between us, will pay with more than just blood.”


	9. Surprises

Agron eyes swept over the courtyard. Several of the men were training; the clash of steel and wood was loud. His eyes settled on Nasir, who was sparring with Donar. While the gladiator was much larger than Nasir, Nasir had the advantage of being faster and more agile. He grinned as Nasir disarmed Donar, flicking his sword to the man’s throat. Donar nodded in surrender, a grin on his face as well. Agron walked to where they were, and offered his arm in greeting to Donar. The other man firmly gripped his forearm and nodded, then walked over to the barrel of water.

 He turned to Nasir with a grin on his face, “Follow me.” Nasir’s eyes were questioning, but he met the grin on Agrons face. Agron led him back to their room, and when the woven mat behind them closed, he swept the Syrian up in his arms. Nasirs arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling himself up at the same time to better reach Agrons lips. Agron could feel the smile on Nasir’s face as they kissed, and he chuckled. Nasir pulled back, and gave the gladiator a questioning look.

“What is so amusing?” he asked, the grin still on his face.

Agron shook his head, “Not amusing, just happiness. Gratitude that you are mine, and I yours. Know that you alone hold my heart, and it shall never waver in its affections.”

The smile on Nasir’s face threatened to split it in two, his eyes were full of light and love. “Know that my heart stands the same.”

Agron pushed his lips to Nasir’s and Agron tumbled backward onto their bed. Nasirs hands pulled at the leather belt across Agrons chest, yanking it over his head and allowing it to fall to the ground with a clatter. Agrons hands pushed the Syrians vest off his shoulders, and it followed the leather strap to the ground. Agrons hands were tight on the Syrians back, pulling him close until there was no space between them. He savored the taste of the Syrian on his lips; he could never have enough of it. Before now they had only been able to get fleeting moments together, but now with the rest of the rebels distracted for a while with the new additions to their ranks, Agron could at last show Nasir what he truly felt.

He did not know who started first, but their hips began to move together. The rhythm was slow and steady. Agrons hands gripped at Nasirs ass, pulling him up closer to him. Their kisses deepened, only ending when the lack of air bested them. Nasirs hand tugged the gladiators head back, and the Syrian pressed his lips to the bare skin of Agrons neck, gently nipping it as he withdrew for a moment, before meeting Agrons again. A moan escaped both of their lips, and Agron pushed himself us, his grip still tight around Nasir, and quickly switched positions. Agron eased his chest down onto Nasir’s, ever watchful for any sign of discomfort or pain. Agron ran his hand down the Syrians side, to the smaller mans thigh and pulled it up to hook around his waist. Agron pushed his hips forward, the Syrian meeting with a push of his own. The rhythm was still slow and steady, but that was the only part of them that was. One of Nasir’s hands gripped his side, with a strength he had never known before, while the other held Agrons necklace in hand, keeping the gladiator firmly in place. Agrons hand was tangled in his Syrians long locks, while the other ventured low along his waist, brushing along the top of Nasir’s breeches.

Another quiet moan escaped Nasir’s lips, and Agron grinned as the Syrian tugged him closer with a yank on his necklace. Agron continued to tease Nasir, only brushing and never going any further down. It took all of Agrons strength not to, as much as he desired it. No matter how much base instinct took over the gladiator, he was still ever watchful of Nasir’s wound, and feared any more exertion would cause it to break open again. Nasir seemed to sense his thoughts, and groaned in frustration.

Agron could hear the quiet laugh that followed it though, and he grinned. Their lips briefly parted, and Nasir panted, “You...tease..” They Syrians eyes were begging for more and Agron would give it to him. He slowly left a trail of kisses down his body, while his hands undid the belt that held Nasir’s breeches up. He pushed them down as he reached his base, and they too joined the pile on the floor. His cock stood proud and erect before him. He slowly kissed the length of it, flicking the tip of Nasir’s cock with his tongue. He could feel Nasir shudder underneath him, as the Syrians hands clawed for purchase in the blanket under him.

Nasir looked at him, and Agron grinned, before taking him entirely into his mouth. Nasir moaned louder as Agron began, his hands gripping onto Agrons head, a silent plea for more. Agron naturally obliged, sucking faster; his hands trailing from Nasir’s thighs to his hips to hold him down. Nasir still squirmed under his grip, lost in his pleasure. Words certainly foreign in origin were coming from his mouth, Agrons name mixed into them.

Those words only encouraged him, moving his lips and tongue faster. Soon Nasir could not even form words, he could only gasp and moan. His Syrian moaned more, and Agron felt Nasir’s thighs clench around him, Nasirs hands gripping at him impossibly tight as he came. Agron continued until Nasir was completely dry, licking his lips as he pulled away.

Agron pulled himself back up to Nasir, lying across his body. The Syrians arms wrapped around him, pulling him close again. Agron gently kissed him on the lips, their foreheads touching, eyes closing as their breathing became one, each thinking of naught but the other. Nasir whispered a few moments later, “Was that what a true surprise is?”

Agron grinned, “Aye, with plenty more to follow.”

Soon loud voices once again drifted down the hall, and Agron knew they would soon be missed by the others. He reluctantly sat up, only for Nasir to grab a hold of his necklace and tug him back down with a laugh. “You would leave me so soon?” he asked in a teasing tone.

Agron laughed, “We will soon be missed by the others.” Nasir rolled his eyes, “Let them miss us for a few more moments,” and silenced the gladiators laugh with his lips.

Voices outside of their room startled them. Agron heard his name several times, and looked down to Nasir. “They want us to join in the games in the courtyard” he explained. Nasir nodded, and allowed Agron to untangle himself from his arms. He leaned down to pick up the leather belt that held his knife, and then kissed Nasir’s forehead. “I would be quick, before they come in here and get you themselves,” he warned Nasir with a grin. Nasir laughed as Agron left the room. 


	10. Dishonor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any conversation in italics means they are speaking in German.

Agron glared at Sedullus’s corpse on the ground, and then glanced over to where Nasir stood. He had some blood on his face and was breathing heavily. Agron started to walk towards him but Nasir stopped him with a wave of his hand, telling him he was fine. Agron nodded and turned back to look at the corpse on the ground, his anger intensifying.

Spartacus had a rope in hand and knelt down to tie it around the dead Germans feet. “No,” Agron said. The Thracian looked up, pausing in what he was doing. “I will take care of this,” Agron told him gruffly.

Spartacus nodded in agreement, and stood backup handing the rope to him. “Take care that you leave no trace,” he advised, and walked over to where Crixus was standing with Naevia and Nasir. Agron knelt down and secured the rope in place, and gave it a tug to make sure it would stay. Someone tapped on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Lugo.

“ _Sedullus has brought dishonor on us all, and I would see it remedied_ ,” and held up another length of rope. Agron nodded, and lashed the second rope around the dead man’s feet and handing it back to Lugo.

Lucius handed them each a shovel, which they threw over their backs and dragged Sedullus’s body from the temple. Agron was grateful for Lugo’s assistance, as Sedullus was a giant and it was difficult to drag his weight even with the two of them. They went deep into the surrounding forest, stopping when they could no longer see the light from the temple. The ground around them was soft and had thick layer of leaves over it. The Germans silently pushed the leaves back, and began to dig. The task took several hours, neither of them men speaking, except for the occasional cursing of Sedullus.

When the grave was at last deep enough, they pulled themselves out of it and sat on the ground for a minute, regaining their breath. Agron looked over at Sedullus corpse and he still found the sight unsettling. While he had given many gruesome and fatal wounds on the sands of the arena, he had never seen the likes of what Spartacus had done to Sedullus, and by the reactions of the others, neither had they.

Lugo was looking at the fatal blow as well. “ _Spartacus is a great warrior, never have I seen such strength and bravery before,”_ he said. A small smile appeared on Agrons face, “ _He is a man who fights with honor. He has little mercy for men who have none. If Spartacus had not killed him, I would have.”_ Lugo nodded in agreement.

Agron undid the ropes attached to Sedullus’s feet, and then he and Lugo unceremoniously pushed his corpse into the grave, it made a loud thud as it hit the bottom. They shoveled the dirt back into the hole, and scattered the leaves back over it. The small splashes of blood in the dirt they dug up and churned until they could no longer see red, placing more leaves back over the spots. Agron scanned the area, and was satisfied with their work. He heard a small rumble and looked up. The sky was darkening with clouds.

“ _Finally some fucking luck. The rain will wash away the last of this mess,”_ he groaned, stretching the muscles in his back. _“If the gods favor us, they will wash away the dishonor Sedullus threw upon us,”_ Lugo said. Agron looked over to Lugo, and the anger on his face was unmistakable. “ _You pledged your allegiance to Spartacus. You washed away all dishonor when you did so,”_ he told him.

 Lugo’s face did not change, “ _Maybe to Spartacus, and others, but Crixus will never trust us now. Not after what Sedullus did to his woman.”_ Agron sighed. He knew Lugo spoke the truth, at least partly. Crixus would hold Agron to blame for what had happened to Naevia, not the Germans. He clapped his hand on Lugo’s shoulder, “ _I will take care of Crixus, he will not hold any anger against you.”_ Lugo nodded and they made their way back to the temple, occasionally stopping to cover any of Sedullus blood on the ground.

The sun was beginning to rise when they entered the temple. Everyone in the courtyard was still asleep, and Lugo went to where the other Germans slept, and threw himself on the ground, instantly falling to sleep. Agron made his way up the steps, and saw Nasir sitting against one of the columns. The Syrian stood up and met Agron half way down the steps, taking Agrons face in his hands and gently turning it, looking for any sign of injury. Agron placed his hands over Nasir’s and brought them to his lips, placing a small kiss on them.

“You are uninjured?” he asked, not content with his quick inspection.

Agron then realized that his head was throbbing, but he shrugged it off. “Nothing that sleep cannot mend,” he answered. His eyes scanned his Syrians face. The blood was gone and a faint bruise was on the side of his face. “What of you?” he asked.

Nasir smiled, “Nothing that sleep cannot mend.” Agron chuckled and placed his arm around Nasir’s shoulders, and Nasir wrapped his arm around his Germans waist.

They entered their room, both quickly shedding their shoes and vests and tossing them into the corner. Nasir yawned as he undid the bandage around his side, and almost fell over in exhaustion. The Syrian had not slept while waiting for Agron to return. Agron put a steadying hand on his shoulder, and eased him down onto the edge of the bed, and finished unwrapping the bandage. The gladiator was relieved to see that it had not broken open during the brawl. He quickly put some more of the salve on it, and blew out the candle in the corner. He turned back to face Nasir, who was lying on the bed, waiting for him. He gave his Syrian a smile, and laid down next to him. Nasir placed his arm over Agrons chest, as he wrapped his arm around him.

“How fares Naevia,” he quietly asked.

“In shock for now, but she is strong. Crixus is furious though,” Nasir answered sleepily.

Agron nodded, he had expected no less. “I will speak with Crixus later, and make amends.”

Nasir eyes opened, and looked at Agron. “You will at last make peace with him?” his eyes hopeful.

Agron knew that his and Crixus’ strained relationship had long bothered both of their lovers. He gave Nasir a smile, “I will make attempt at peace, for all our sakes.” Nasir grinned, and Agron laughed, gently cupping Nasirs face in his hand and bringing their lips to meet in a kiss. 


	11. Desires Sated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised 9/10, thanks to new/extended scenes on the Spartacus Vengeance Blu Ray discs. It's extra Nagron =D

Nasir sat in front of the healer as she checked his wound again. Agron leaned against the wall in front of him, his arms crossed, impatiently waiting. Nasir gave him a reassuring smile and turned his gaze back to her. She gently pressed against his side, and looked at him, waiting for a sign of pain from him. He looked back at her, a grin on his face. He felt none. She pressed harder, and still he felt no pain from it. She returned his smile. “It seems your wound has at least healed in its entirety,” she said.

Nasir glanced down at his abdomen. Where once the skin had been blistered and fiery red, not it was only a shade lighter than his skin, and slightly raised. A dark line ran through it, the only testament to the Romans sword. He turned to face Agron; a grin graced his face as well. “You may go,” the healer told him. Nasir jumped to his feet, and Agron pushed himself off the wall, and they walked through the door. The hallway was empty.

Nasir looked up at Agron, and pushed him against the wall. He grunted at his back hit it, an amused look on his face. Nasir pushed himself up against the gladiator, the look on his face unmistakable. “You owe me something, gladiator,” he teased. He had waited weeks for his wound to heal, so that he might truly enjoy Agron. Now his patience had worn out. He wrapped his arms around his gladiator’s shoulders, pulling himself up and bringing his lips to Agrons. He felt the gladiator wrap his muscled arms around his waist, lifting him slightly. Nasir could feel Agrons lips form in a grin, his hands tangling in Nasir’s hair, and tugging his head back gently.

“I shall pay the debt in due time,” he told him. “The others expect us in the courtyard to assist in training,” he reminded the Syrian. Nasir groaned. It figured that the one time he had no self control, Agron would. Agrons fingers gently lifted Nasirs face, “Tonight, when the sun goes down, I am yours,” he whispered. “Then let tonight come quickly, and let it never end,” he said back, just as quietly. Agron gently pressed his lips back to Nasir’s and then lowered him back to the ground.

“Go gather your sword, and let us have proper competition,” he told Nasir. The Syrian grinned, Agron had known he had been eager to spar with him, but the opportunity had been denied them. He nodded, and went back to their room to retrieve his sword from their small pile of belongings. He drew the sword from its sheath, and looked at it for a moment. The last time he had wielded it, the Roman had run him through. He winced slightly as the pain from the memory came back to him, but pushed it from thought. No Roman would ever hurt him again, and he would see them all to the afterlife, with Agron at his side.

He put it back in its sheath as he heard raised voices at the entrance of the temple. He left there room, and watched as Spartacus pulled a woman past him. She was heavy with child from the look of her bulging stomach and was dressed in fine clothes, with precious gems set around her neck. A woman of high status. Spartacus dragged her further into the temple, and Nasir sprinted to the entrance of it, and found Agron in discussion with the other gladiators.

“The fucking praetors’ wife,” sneered Donar. “Now we hold advantage over that shit.”

“At what cost? If we take the bitches life, Rome will send every soldier they have against us,” argued another. Nasir placed his hand on Agrons arm, drawing his attention. He motioned with his head to a quiet corner of courtyard.

“The woman, who is she?” he asked Agron. Agrons eyes flicked to where Spartacus had dragged the woman, then back to him. “She is Glabers wife. Before we rebelled, she was often a guest of Batiatus’ bitch, and frequented the ludus. If rumor is true, she convinced one of the men I was recruited with to make attempt on Spartacus’ life, in exchange for freedom. She was in the ludus the night we took our freedom back, but somehow the snake escaped our fucking grasp before we could take her life.” The hate in Agrons voice was unmistakable, and Nasir empathized with him.

 “How did she come to be here?” Nasir assumed she must have been traveling heavily guarded on the road. “Gannicus has delivered her to us,” Agron told him. “Gannicus?” The Celt had departed days before, after condemning the rebellion, “The man holds no faith in our cause, why would he help us?” Agron shrugged his shoulders and looked over Nasir’s shoulder. Nasir turned and saw the Celt leaning against a pillar by himself. He saw that his eyes were fixed on Oenomaus.  “This is yet another rumor, but if true, Gannicus owes much to Oenomaus. I believe he is trying to repay that debt in a way.”

Nasir nodded and turned back to face Agron. “So Spartacus will take her life then?” he asked. While he held no love for the woman, she was still with child. Agron sensed his thoughts, and softened his tone, “I do not know. He may wish to claim his vengeance against Glaber for the death of his own wife, or may use her to gain advantage for us.” Nasir was still not entirely convinced though. Agron placed his hands on the Syrians shoulders, “the child she carries is Glabers heir. A child that will one day be the image of his father if allowed to live.” Nasir knew Agron spoke the truth and nodded.

Agron grinned, and Nasir could not help but allow one to take his face to. “Turn the thoughts from mind, and let us have proper contest, as promised,” his hand trailing to the hilt of his sword. Nasir laughed and drew his from its sheath. The clash of steel sounded through the courtyard as they sparred. Both were grinning in delight. Nasir had learned much since he had last taken up sword with Agron, and the gladiator was impressed. What would have normally taken months, or even years to learn, Nasir had learned in just weeks. He pressed took advantage at every opportunity, and now stood Agrons equal upon the sand.

The only thing he found difficult to overcome was Agrons sheer size and weight. Agron grinned as he pushed his weight against Nasir, forcing his back to the wall, and pinning him there. Nasir hissed, and tried to pull his arms free, his sword still in hand. Agron laughed and allowed him to pull his arms free, only to pin them above his head with his own.  The Syrian hissed again, until Agron silenced it with a press of his lips. “It is a good thing that the only harm I intend to do to you, is to rob you of breath and thought of naught but my name,” he teased, his green eyes focused on brown ones. Nasir could feel Agron loosen his hold slightly. He pushed with all his strength against Agron, and he fell to the ground, with Nasir straddling him. “I believe I am the one who has robbed you of breath,” he laughed.

~~*~~

Nasir watched as the sun began to go down and the temple began to darken. He smiled, watching as Agron filled his bowl with stew across the room. He was talking to Saxa and laughed at something she said, before making his way towards him, where he stood against the stone table. His gladiator came to stand in front of him. “The sun is going down,” Nasir said, a small smile upon his face. Agron moved closer to him, taking Nasir’s face in his hand, “and you shall soon have me.” Argons grins truly were contagious, as the grin on his face spread to Nasir’s. They moved closer again, bodies almost touching, lost in each other’s gazes.

“Agron. Nasir.” Spartacus’ voice startled them from their revere. They turned to face the Thracian who was coming from the hallway. “I would ask for you to take the first watch over Ilithyia tonight. I do not trust the snake to not make attempt to escape while we sleep.” Their eyes met for a second, and they both sighed. Agron nodded his head, and they made their way back to the room where Ilithyia was being held. They stood outside the room in the hallway, silent for a moment.

“Fuck the Gods,” Agron angrily said. While he too was frustrated at being denied what he too wanted so badly, he could not help but snort in laughter.

 “Curse them more and they might deny us longer,” he chastised, even though he had little faith in them himself.

This time Agron laughed, “I would strike down the gods themselves, to see me to your arms little man.”

Nasir crossed his arms, “I thought I warned you not to call me that.” He tried to keep the laughter from his voice by putting a scowl on his face, but Agron easily saw through it, grinning.

“You shall have to teach me to hold my tongue then,” he challenged, attempting to hide his laughter as well. They met each other’s eyes and all attempts at hiding their laughter were gone.

Laughter drifted down the hall, and Agron walked away for a moment to look for its source. Nasir looked over to the woman. Ilithyia. That was what Agron had told him. He heard Agron walk up behind him, and voiced his thoughts. “A quivering woman, and with child—she does not appear the deadly serpent you give voice to.”

Agron scoffed, “She is wife of the fuck that would see us all to grave.”

He turned to look at Agron, “Yet not the man himself.”

Agron’s eyes were focused on Ilithyia as he spoke. “Crixus speaks of how she took Acer’s _life_ as fucking amusement of celebration.”

He looked over to Ilithyia as Agron continued, “Her heart is as venomous as Glaber’s or any other Roman shit’s.”

“A familiar song bleated from your fucking tongue.” They both turned to face Lucius, who was holding a small bowl in his hands and glaring at Agron.

“You know my meaning my Lucius.”

“And mostly share in its low estimation. Yet I would hold ourselves to higher standard.  Food for deadly prisoner.”

“Shall I draw her a warm bath as well,” Agron retorted.

Lucius was not amused, “Consider meal for the child, unless you fear it shall take up sword against you from fucking womb.”

He chuckled quietly, and Agron half-heartedly glared at him. He quickly cleared his throat, while Lucius smirked at him. For a long moment, neither one of them moved, until Agron sighed heavily, and jerked his head in Ilithyia’s direction, allowing him to pass. Nasir smiled slightly, watching carefully as Lucius entered the room.

Agron sighed again, “Faded years soften wounded heart.” He glanced up at Agron, thinking him a hypocrite, but saying nothing.

He turned from Lucius, back to Agron. “Can you blame the old man? He has lost much in this life. We all have.” He didn’t have to say Duro’s name, for Agron to know what he was speaking of.

“That is different. We know what it is like to have lost _everything_. They know _nothing_ of loss and suffering. “

“We should still hold ourselves to higher standard. If we do not, what separates us from the Romans?”

Agron groaned, knowing that he was right. “I still do not agree.”

He smiled, “You do not have to, so long as you understand my thoughts.”

Agron pursed his lips, before shaking his head and smiling.

“I find it strange that you heed my words so easily,” said Nasir. He knew of no one but himself that Agron actually _listened_ to. While Agron would take orders from Spartacus, they were just that. Orders. Agron was loyal to Spartacus, and saw each other as brothers, but they disagreed on much still. It took hours to get anything though either of their thick skulls, once they were set to purpose.

Agron chuckled, “Do not take advantage of it, for you are the only one who has this power over me.”

Nasir gave him a small smile, “I would never.” Lucius walked back past them, looking troubled but they did not stop him.

They settled against the wall, Agrons arms around Nasir’s waist, pulling him close. They had hours before they would be relieved from watch. Nasir settled himself into his gladiator’s arms, running his hand lightly over them. Agron pressed his face into Nasir’s hair, and breathed deeply. Nasir closed his eyes, his thoughts lost as he felt Agron close to him. The thought that Agron loved him was still overwhelming, robbing him of his senses. Agron was a part of him, his other half.

 His heart.

 Agrons arms tightened around him, and Nasir laid his arms over the gladiators. He knew of no place he would rather be, than in these arms. The touch was filled with protection, and love. He leaned back into Agrons chest, his breath slowing to match the gladiators.

They did not move for a while and Nasir could have stayed in the gladiators arms all night, but they had a charge. Nasir sighed, and reluctantly pulled himself from Agrons arms, standing up. He met Agrons eyes, and could see the reluctance in his as well. Agron pushed himself up and placed his hands on the Syrians hips, pulling him close to him again. The gladiator’s eyes glanced back to where the Roman woman was, and then back to him. He seemed to be debating something for a moment. Then he brought his gaze back to Nasir, and brought his lips down to the Syrians.

He was gentle at first, but soon the gladiator’s kisses became more urgent, with less time between each one. Nasir ran his hands up Agrons chest, until he held his face in hand. Agron pushed against him with his body, until his back hit the wall. There kisses deepened, Agron biting his lower lip. He pulled back for a second, pushing Agron back. “We must wait, until Spartacus relieves of us charge,” he said, trying to catch his break. _Fuck the gods, what is wrong with me?_

Agron grinned, “Time passes to slowly.”

 Nasir would not argue. “We must be quick then!” and pulled Agron back to him. He savored the taste of Agrons tongue. He slowly ran his hand down Agrons chest, feeling his muscles ripple, teasing for a moment at the brim of Agrons subligaria, before moving his hand between the gladiator’s legs, grabbing at the enlarging bulge. Agron pulled away for a second, glancing down, before Nasir pulled him back. There breathing was becoming more labored, as Nasir rubbed his hand against the bulge more. He wanted all of Agron, and he would have him _now._

“This is how you stand guard?”

They broke apart instantly, and looked over to see Mira watching them, a smile upon her face. Nasir could feel his face burn with heat. “Apologies. We were….uh..um..” he looked to Agron for help.

“We were….we were.. we were just…. we….um..” they met each other’s gazes and laughed.

 Mira gave them a knowing smile. “Take to your bed; I will assume watch over Ilithyia.”

Nasir wiped his wrist across his mouth and licked his lips, looking at Agron. Agron grinned at jerked his head toward Mira. Nasir grinned and walked past Mira, keeping his eyes down until he was past her. Agron quickly followed, and heard him whisper his gratitude to Mira.

Agron followed him around the corner, and they all but ran back to their room. As soon as the woven mat serving as their door had fallen behind them, Nasir jumped into Agrons arms. The gladiator pulled him tight against his chest, with a firm grip on his ass. Nasirs searching tongue quickly found Agrons, while his hands found purchase in the Germans hair. Agron carried him over to their bed and laid him down on it. Their hands worked frantically at the others clothes; they were soon in a pile on the floor.  The Syrian trailed his hands down his Germans chest, down to his base then back up again to his face. He pushed back against Agrons weight, arching his back, until he was sitting in the gladiators lap. He pulled back Agrons head with his hand, and slowly kissed all around his neck, nipping gently when he withdrew. Sounds of pleasure were coming from them both, hungrily silenced by deep kisses.

Agron reached over to dip his fingers in a bowl of oil that Nasir had put out hours before. He laid Nasir back down again, and trailed his fingers down the Syrians chest, to between his cheeks. He gently rubbed the oil against Nasir’s hole, not breaching, but only teasing. He moaned, his legs spreading further apart, begging Agron for more. Agron was ever the tease though, not breaching yet. Agrons lips trailed along his neck, slowly kissing his skin, occasionally biting down, only to kiss the skin again. He took his gladiators face in hand and brought it back up to his, nipping at his lower lip. He reached over to dip his fingers in the oil, and brought his hand to Agrons cock, slicking the oil over it.

This time it was Agrons turn to moan, hungrily taking Nasirs lip between his teeth. Nasir arched his back, only for Agron to press him back down with his hand, while the gladiator brought his lips to the smaller mans chest, his hot tongue teasing at his nipple, before nipping at it. The Syrians back arched again, only for Agron to hold him down. He traveled lower now, gently kissing the scar on his abdomen, then traveled to his base, kissing the length of him, and teasing.

Nasir felt as though he might burst. “Agron,” he gasped. He could see the gladiator grin as he took Nasir’s throbbing flesh into his mouth, slowly moving up and down it, while his hand slowly stretched Nasir.  He closed his eyes, while his hands grasped at Agrons neck, holding him there.

Then the lavishing attention on his cock was gone. Nasir opened his eyes, and found Agron hovering back above him. Nasir reached up to press his lips to Agrons, but Agron remained just out of reach. He took the Syrians wrists in his hands, and pinned them above his head, and slowly began to thrust his hips forward. There cocks rubbed against each other, and the pleasure was enough to drive them both mad. Nasir tried again to reach Agrons lips, but he far outweighed him, and had him pinned down. A serious look came to his face for a moment. “You will have me?” he asked. Even in his state of arousal, Nasir knew what he asked. He had been used for years by his Dominus, and the deeds had haunted him. But not anymore.

“Now and forever.”

Agron released his wrists, and reached between his own legs, guiding his cock to Nasir, and slowly pushed in. Nasir gasped as he felt Agrons thick cock in him. The gladiator began a slow roll of his hips, and Nasir eagerly met it with his own. His hands gripped at Agrons sides, pulling him down closer to him. He could feel the ripple of Agrons muscles against his chest, his hands gripping tighter. At last Agron brought his lips back to Nasirs, and hungrily kissed him. The gladiator tangled his hand in Nasirs hair. The Syrian wrapped his legs around Agrons waist, his hands cupping the larger man’s face, refusing to let him leave his lips. Nasir lifted his hips, so that Agron’s cock went deeper. Agron felt him tense underneath him, and ran his hand down the Syrians side, and took his cock in hand. He pumped the flesh in time with their hips, faster and faster.

Nasir felt as Agron spilled seed inside him, his muscles clenching around his cock. His release came but a moment later, spilling over Agron’s hand and onto his chest, robbing him of breath. Their lips hovered on the edge of a kiss, breathing heavily as their bodies slowly relaxed, and they could form thoughts again. Agron lowered himself onto Nasir’s chest, while Nasir wrapped his arms around him.

A smile came to Nasirs face. “The rumors are true then.”

Agron looked up at him. “What rumor do you speak of?” he asked, curiosity in his voice. “That gladiators are ravenous lovers,” he replied, grinning at his gladiator.

Agron grinned back at him and pulled himself up, so that his face was above the Syrians. “Only when we are in the arms of someone we truly love.” Nasir felt his heart skip a beat, and all his thoughts were lost. The way that Agron _looked_ at him, as if seeing the sun for the first time. The love he could see in his eyes was a feeling that Nasir had never expected to know in his life. When Spartacus had liberated the villa, he had seen it as a curse. How he could have ever thought so, with Agron in his arms?  He was a blessing from the gods. Agron gently pressed his lips to Nasirs, his fingers brushing against the smaller man’s face. He wrapped his arm around Nasirs waist and turned over, pulling Nasir onto his chest.

Agron tugged the blanket from the side of the bed, pulling it over them both. Nasir crossed his arms, absently trailing his fingers over Agrons muscled chest. The Germans fingers soon intertwined with his, and he looked up to meet his green eyes. They both burst into laughter, and Agron brought Nasirs arms to rest around his shoulders. Nasir could only smile as he looked down at his German, relishing in the happiness Agron brought him. “What do you think of,” asked Agron.

Nasirs smile widened, “my thoughts are full of you, of the lover that has my heart.” Agron grinned and pulled him close, placing his lips first to the Syrians forehead, then to his lips.

A yawn escaped Nasirs lips, and Agron followed suit a moment later. Lost in each other’s gazes, and arms, they had not noticed their own exhaustion. They laughed together again, and Agron shifted his body slightly, still holding Nasir to him, as he reached over and snuffed out the candles that lit the room. He rolled over slightly, so that they both lay on their sides. Nasir eased down slightly, and leaned into Agrons chest. He closed his eyes, and breathed in the scent of his gladiator. Agron pressed his lips to his dark hair. “Sleep,” he whispered, “I shall follow you to your dreams.” Nasir smiled, and fell to sleep in Agrons arms.


	12. Eyes of Fire

“You believe this will work?” Agron stared at Spartacus. The Thracian was fucking mad, if he believed Glaber would agree to what Spartacus offered him. “We shall see when Lucius returns from Capua. Ilithyia holds his unborn child, and that child means a great deal to him, as does his wife. He will agree to terms.” Agron rolled his eyes, leaning against the table between them. He held no faith in Glaber. The man had proven himself desperate to see the Thracian dead on multiple occasions, disregarding his own men’s lives to see it done. “This is fucking madness, Spartacus.” The Thracian shrugged his shoulders, “We shall see soon enough.”

He groaned and left to find Nasir. It would be a long while before Lucius returned from Capua, and Agron needed to talk to someone who actually held sense. He found Nasir sitting among his kin, speaking in fragmented German and the common tongue. The Germans greeted him warmly as he approached, and Nasir turned, smiling at him. He greeted his kin just as warmly, and they returned to talk among themselves. Nasir held up a bowl of food, “You always forget to eat when Spartacus calls you to make plans.” Agron smiled, he himself had not realized the habit, but Nasir saw everything in him. He took the bowl in his hand, and offered the other one to Nasir, pulling him to his feet. “I would hear you thoughts on Spartacus’ plan,” he said quietly. Spartacus had not told the others yet; he was waiting until before nightfall, when Lucius was expected to return. Nasir nodded, and they walked back to their room, the only place in the temple where they would not be disturbed. If the gods favored them at least.

Agron smiled as they entered the room, memories of the previous night still fresh in his mind. Nasir noticed, “Do not let your thoughts stray,” laughter in his voice, “not yet.” Agron grinned and they sat on the bed facing each other. Agron took a bite of the stew, and began to explain the plan to Nasir. “Spartacus has dispatched Lucius to Capua, to deliver a message to Glaber. He plans to give the fucking shit his wife back, if he agrees to give us a wagon laden with weapons and armor. The fuck will be allowed to have three men by his side, with Spartacus allowed the same. If Glaber attempts to betray us, which he fucking will, Spartacus will not show, and will kill the Ilithyia.” He took another bite, Nasirs eyes were focused on him. “His plan is madness, but Spartacus believes Glaber will agree to terms, so that he might hold his precious wife and child again.” Nasir was quiet for a minute, his face thoughtful.

“The plan is foolish,” the Syrian said. Finally, someone who agreed with Agron. “Was it not Glabers men that pursued us through the woods, when we fled the mines?” he asked. Agron nodded, his anger bubbled inside him for a moment, as he thought back to how he had found Nasir, wounded and near death. A gentle touch on his forearm pulled him from it, while a hand pulled his gaze to meet the Syrians. “I live,” he reminded the German. Agron nodded, pushing the anger away, “It was Glabers men who attacked you.” Nasirs eyes darkened, “We slaughtered all of the men who attacked us, but he still sent more, before you found us. That man does not even hold regard for his own men’s lives. I fear this plan will fail, and cost us much.” Agron finished his food, and Nasir looked at him, “You will stand among the three.” It was no question; Nasir knew he would stand beside Spartacus, even if the plan was damned.  He nodded, “If Glaber agrees to terms, I will.” 

“I would stand among them as well then,” the Syrian said. “No!” the word left Agron’s mouth instantly. “Why? I stand your equal upon the sands. I have been absent these missions to long.” Agron allowed himself to collect his thoughts for a moment, taking great care with his words. “Glaber is a treacherous fuck, a man who has no limits, no line that he will not hesitate to cross. I would not see you before him; I will not see you hurt by his fucks again.” He prayed that Nasir would understand. Glaber was the reason Nasir had almost died. He feared that if Nasir stood beside him, he would not be able to focus on the task at hand, and instead would run his sword through the fucking Praetor. “I would have revenge against him, for what he has done to me,” Nasir insisted. Agron sighed. “You are not the only one who would claim vengeance against him,” he reminded the Syrian, “Glaber condemned Spartacus and his wife to slavery; his men robbed my brother of his life, his men were ruthless to all of us under his brief patronage of the fucking House of Batiatus.” Agron could tell Nasir wanted to argue, and he took Nasirs hand in his, “Spartacus will send Glaber to the afterlife, and give us all the vengeance we seek.”

“Fine,” Nasir said, anger in his voice. “Nasir-”Agron began, but Nasir cut him off. “This is the _last_ time you leave me behind, Agron. I will not sit here idle anymore, while you and the others leave these walls.” The Syrians eyes were full of fire, glaring at Agron. That fire was a challenge, daring Agron to disagree with him. That fire was why he loved Nasir so much. He nodded, “the last time.” The fire dimmed in his eyes a little, but not much, a scowl still on his face. Agron placed his hand on Nasirs neck and pulled him close, brushing his lips against the other mans. “The last time, I promise,” he said, his blue eyes focused on Nasir’s brown ones.

Nasir still glared at him, but Agron knew his resolve was cracking. He kissed Nasir, a soft press of his lips. “You attempt to cloud my thoughts” Nasir muttered. “I would never,” Agron replied, teasing in his voice. “You treacherous German,” he muttered under his breath. Agron laughed, and pressed his lips back to Nasirs, his arms circling around the smaller mans waist, pulling the Syrian into his lap, his legs straddling Agron. “We shall draw our blades together soon enough,” he said quietly. Nasirs shoulders slumped, and sighed in defeat. “You owe me gladiator,” he growled. “I thought I paid what was owed last night?” he teased, his hands trailing down Nasir’s back. The Syrians hands ran up his chest, and with a sudden show of strength pushed Agron down against the bed. Nasir leaned down and whispered into his ear, “I want more,” nipping it for good measure. Nasir began slowly kissing around his neck, his hands still pressed against Agrons chest. The Gladiators hands gripped onto Nasirs ass, holding him in place. He began to roll his hips against Agrons, and Agron let out a low moan.

“Agron!” The voice of the Gaul was unmistakable.

“Fuck the gods.”

Nasir smirked at him, “not before me.” It was Agrons turn to roll his eyes. What could the fucking Gaul want right _now?_

Crixus’ voice sounded again, “Oenomaus wishes for you to assist in training _your_ kin.”  Fuck. The Gaul still held a grudge against him, for what Seddullus had done to Naevia. Crixus could have easily assisted in their training, but he was preoccupied with Naevias instead. Part of Agron believed he partially used it as an excuse to stay far from his kin.

“Give me a moment,” he yelled, and heard Crixus stomp away. Nasir was still smirking at him. “You find this amusing?” he asked the Syrian. “What I find more amusing is that you have yet to settle matters with Crixus,” he replied. Shit. Agron _had_ forgotten to settle matters with the Gaul. He offered a sheepish smile to Nasir, knowing he had been caught, “Other thoughts placed it from mind.” It was an honest response, even if the thoughts that had placed if from his mind had been ones of the man in his arms.

“Will you make amends soon, for me?” Agron was helpless against the look Nasir gave him. “I will, as soon as opportunity arises.” The Syrian smiled, content with Agrons answer. He sat up, still straddling Agron, “see to the training of your kin, I have no mind towards the sword today.” That surprised Agron; usually Nasir was eager to take up his sword.

“How will you spend the rest of the day then?” The Syrian rolled his hips against Agrons, “I will keep myself occupied for now, then work on the temple roof with the others.” Agron laughed, he longed to see Nasir to his finish with his own body, but the Gaul would be back if he did not show in the courtyard, or even worse, Oenomaus. The man would not hesitate to drag Agron from the room himself.

Nasir rolled of him, lazily lying out on the bed. Agron sat up, and leaned over him, his hand trailing down in between the Syrians legs, gently rubbing his hand over his cock. He pressed his lips once again to Nasirs. “Go now, before I refuse to let you leave this bed,” the Syrian mumbled under his lips. Agron let out a chuckle, but did as Nasir ordered. He could hear the faint sound of his clothes hitting the floor as he left their room.


	13. Brotherhood

That _fucking_ Syrian. Of course Ashur had allied himself with the fucking Praetor. How he wished Oenomaus had taken the cunts life when they had destroyed the House of Batiatus, but the fucking coach roach had escaped his grasp. His face was bruised where Ashur had kicked him, when he had opened the wagon. Agron groaned. He had expected Glaber to make attempt on their lives, but he had not expected it to be in such a devious way. No doubt Ashurs fucking idea. The men who had leapt out of the wagon were of the same breed as the Syrian, treacherous and holding no honor.

The others were groaning similar complaints, cursing Glaber and Ashur to the deepest pits of the afterlife. Spartacus was the only one of them to remain silent, and for good fucking reason. Thanks to Spartacus’ mad plan, Lucius was dead or worse, and the rest of them had barely escaped Glabers men, fleeing into the woods before they could follow them.

The temple came into sight soon enough and soon Agron could hear the voices of the people inside it. He looked at Spartacus. “What do we tell them?” he asked. Spartacus sighed, “We tell them what happened.” He nodded, and Spartacus took the lead as they walked through the temples doors. The others fell silent, already sensing that the plan had not worked.

“What happened?” called out of the women, Cassia. Agrons eyes glanced over to Spartacus, then back to the others before them, searching for familiar brown eyes. He felt someone behind him, the presence familiar. He did not need to turn around to know it was Nasir behind him. He held his hand out behind him, and Nasir placed his hand in Agrons.

“Glaber betrayed honorable agreement. The wagon with him held neither weapons nor armor, but a trap laid for us. One of them we knew. Ashur, a treacherous Syrian, who habited the ludus with us” Agron felt Nasirs grip tighten on his hand, he gripped back, “the others we did not, but they held the same honor he did. Glabers troops were lying in wait for us, and Lucius stayed behind to slow them down, so we might escape.”

The men and women began to talk among themselves, fear in their voices. The gladiators remained silent, waiting for Spartacus to continue. “Glaber knows we are here, and we must prepare ourselves. Heed Oenomaus instructions in training, and we will defeat them, and see every Roman who dares to call us slave to the afterlife!”

The courtyard erupted in cheers. It always amazed Agron how Spartacus could ignite them all. Without him, the rebellion would never survive. Oenomaus called the others back to training, barking orders at them, quickly taking advantage of the fire the Spartacus had ignited in them.

Agron rubbed at his jaw, wincing when the bruised skin protested against the touch. Nasir moved to stand in front of him; his eyes full of concern as his eyes took in Agrons bruised face. “Ashur,” he told Nasir, “the treacherous fuck.” Nasir nodded, his hand gently running over the bruised skin. Agron yawned; he was exhausted, having not slept since the night before. Nasir tugged him back toward their room, and with a little push, had Agron on the bed. His eyes closed as he shrugged out of his coat, throwing it to the edge of the bed, then yanked off the belts that held his sword and dagger, throwing them into the corner. He could hear Nasir rummaging in the corner as well, and he cracked an eye open. “What are you doing?” he asked. Nasir had shrugged of his coat as well, and Agron admired his beautiful dark skin. “Give me a moment,” he answered. Agron grunted and closed his eyes again. He felt a cold cloth on his face, and opened his eyes once again. Nasir was leaning over him, holding the cloth to his bruised skin. Agron smiled and pulled him onto his chest. Nasir did not return his smile though; his eyes were focused on the brand on Agrons forearm.

Agron knew mention of Ashur had unsettled Nasir. The last time he had mentioned the fuck had been back when they had just liberated Nasir’s villa. He had implied that Nasir was no different from Ashur, words he deeply regretted now. “Nasir, you are not him,” Agron assured him, moving his arm and removing the brand from sight. Nasir nodded his head, “I know.” He was silent for a moment, removing the cloth and checking the bruise on Agrons face.

“Ashur, did he not bear the mark of the brotherhood?” he asked. “He did, but he was never of the brotherhood,” he told him. “Why would he betray his brothers?” Nasir asked, his face full of confusion. Agron understood where that confusion came from. Nasir had only ever known the gladiators who had escaped the ludus, had only seen the bond of the brotherhood between them. Even if they held no love towards each other, they would never turn on their brothers. Agron gave a small shake of his head, “He never stood as a gladiator among us, instead serving only Batiatus and his ambitions, so that he might rise higher.”

His answer bothered Nasir more, “For one to betray his own brothers,” he shook his head, “I cannot imagine a greater crime.” Agron agreed with him, the bond of the brotherhood was all they had at the ludus, and to betray it was a heinous crime. The traitor was the reason many of his brothers were dead. “A crime he will pay for with his life,” he told Nasir.

Agrons hand trailed to the scar on Nasirs abdomen, gently running his fingers over it. He had been branded as a true gladiator would have, and he was counted among them as one of the brotherhood. Agron knew that Nasir took great pride in being counted among them, and could never fathom betraying any of the men he now called brother.

He gently took Nasir’s face in his free hand, pressing their foreheads together, “You earned your place among the brotherhood, and bear the mark of it. You have sacrificed much, fighting with us. You stand as trusted brother, as a man of honor.”

Nasir allowed a smile to take his face, Agrons words pushing the traitor from mind. He smiled in return, before yawning once more. A laugh escaped Nasirs lips as he wet the cloth once more; placing it back over Agrons bruised skin. The cool water was quickly numbing the pain in his jaw. He closed his eyes again, his hands absently running down Nasirs sides. He moved the cloth on Agrons face slightly, and felt Nasirs soft lips take their place. He grinned, wrapping his arms around Nasir, pulling him close.

He desired sleep, but knew Spartacus would call for him soon. He made to get up, but Nasir pressed back against him, using all his weight to keep the gladiator down. “You need sleep,” he told Agron. He couldn’t argue. “I will hold off Spartacus for a few hours, so that you can rest.” Nasir climbed off him, and grabbed the blanket from where it had fallen on the floor, throwing over Agron. He pressed his lips to Agrons bruised skin once more, before taking his lips in a kiss. “Sleep,” he said quietly. Agron closed his eyes and instantly fell to sleep. 


	14. Fucking Test

Nasir glared at Lugo. If the German had had his fucking eyes opened, then Spartacus would have never taken them by surprise. “What is with the look little man?” the German asked. His anger intensified, Agron was the only person he ever tolerated calling him that. “Do you not fucking realize what just happened” he hissed at the idiot. He could hear the commotion from over the wall, and knew that the others had discovered the infiltration. He took the torch Donar handed him, and they walked back into the temple.

“Enough” he heard the Thracian cry. The rebels all spoke with confusion at what had just happened, as Gannicus and Crixus pulled of the Roman helmets. The confusion quickly turned to anger.

“This was but fucking test?” Agron growled.

“If it had not been, you all would have been for the afterlife,” Spartacus responded. Nasir glared at Lugo again, but the German was not even fazed by the Thracians words. Did the fool not realize the severity of what could have happened? If it had been the Romans, _everyone_ of them would have been dead or worse.

“We will not be taken unaware next time,” Oenomaus growled. The former Doctore was just as angry as Nasir was.

“I would see words forged into action. Rise and take morning meal,” Spartacus ordered, “The day ahead of us will be long.” Nasir knew they were all in trouble, he and Lugo the most, as they had been the ones on watch.

“Nasir, what happened?” The Syrian stopped glaring at Lugo, and turned to face Agron. He opened his mouth, ready to tell him how _Lugo_ had fallen asleep on watch, but before he could respond, Spartacus was ordering him to gather his breakfast and get back on the wall. He growled in frustration. “I’ll tell you after I get off that fucking wall,” he told Agron, and stormed away.

The Thracian seemed to have known better than to order Lugo back to it though, since Donar climbed up on the wall next to him instead. The sun was beginning to rise, but it did nothing to brighten Nasir’s mood. He ate in silence, his eyes firmly fixed on the woods surrounding the temple.

Soon Spartacus was calling them all to attention. Nasir jumped off the wall, and stood beside Agron. The others began arguing about the test, each placing blame on the other for being taken by surprise. Nasir smirked when he saw Naevia glaring at Crixus, smacking him on the chest. Even though he had not spoken to her of the incident, he knew she was furious with him.

“We cannot defend the temple, if we are at odds with one another,” the Thracian yelled. Nasir had a good notion of who he spoke of, but there were many among them who did not get along.

“Give Lugo warrior to share watch, not little man with little balls,” Lugo demanded. Nasir glared at him again, and tried to get at him. Agron was quickly between them though, preventing Nasir from punching Lugo in the face. “My balls did not allow breach,” he hissed. He stopped trying to get past Agron, knowing his next words would remove blame from him. “Your eyes were closed in pursuit of dreams,” he snarled.

“You fell to sleep?” The Thracian was dumbfounded, and Nasir felt a large amount of satisfaction.

Agron was just as furious, pushing Lugo so that he faced the gladiator, “And you blame Nasir, you lazy shit.”

“Turn effort from defending you boy, and look upon your own failings!” Nasir groaned; Crixus still placed blame on Agron for everything involving the Germans.

Agron stormed toward the Gaul and he stepped forward, ready to pull Agron back, “then let us relive moment, and see different fucking result!"

Spartacus’ patience was wearing thin, slamming his forearm into Crixus’ chest and pushing him back from Agron. “The Romans will come!” Agron growled, and backed off from the Gaul. Nasir could feel the anger radiating from him. “And if they find us divided, we will fall before them.”

“Words of meaning,” Naevia replied angrily. The others called out words of agreement.

“What would you have us do?” Donar asked. Besides Agron and Crixus, the gladiators had remained silent while the others argued. They knew placing blame on one another would do no good, and waited for Spartacus’ orders.

“Try not to get your head fucking bashed,” Nemetes told Donar. Nasir rolled his eyes. Did all the Germans wish to start fights today?

Gannicus was quick with a reply though, “Bold words from one who tumbled so quickly.” Nasir snorted, and Nemetes tried to defend himself, “I was absent fucking sword!”

“Why does little man have sword, and not Lugo?” He tightened his grip on his sword, wanting nothing more than to hit Lugo over the head with it, and fucking shut him up. He took a small step towards the German, but Agron placed his hand in front of him, and held him back. For now.

“We cannot face the Romans with fucking sticks!” Nemetes argued.

“Then I will teach you the bow,” Mira offered, but the Germans spat at her offer. Saxa spat in German, and several of the others cheered.  Agron however was not amused, and glared at her.

“We are from East of the Rhine, we fight with fucking steel!” What sort of fucking excuse was that? They should have been eager to take up any weapon that would defend them.

Saxa spoke again, and she turned to Agron waiting for him to translate, just as Nasir did. Agron sighed, and looked up to Spartacus. “She asks why you let Ilithyia go, when Glaber did not trade weapons as promised.”

“A thing I have also wondered.” Gannicus spoke for all of them, and Nasir waited to hear Spartacus’ reply. He had been angry when he had learned Spartacus had released her, less so because of the deal, but because Agron had come back to him bruised and bloodied, with nothing to show for his efforts.

He waited for the Thracians reply. He hesitated before he spoke, “taking her life, would have not gained us what we need. It would have only served misplaced vengeance. We are better than this, we are better than the Romans. Oenomaus, Gannicus, see everyone to guarded position. We will train against assault by light of day, and attempt to elevate nights defeat.”

“Let us see it done,” Gannicus said.

“I have no need of aid,” Oenomaus told him. The former gladiators were still at odds with each other. “Lugo. Nasir. Take position upon wall.” Nasir glared at Lugo again, trying to get past Agron. The gladiator placed a firm hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at Agron. Agron pointed his finger at him, blue eyes demanding his attention, “Behave, and do as Oenomaus says. You’ll get back at Lugo soon enough.” Nasir nodded, and started back toward the wall, Lugo lumbering beside him.

He placed the sword on the wall above him, and pulled himself up. Lugo was eyeing the sword, and Nasir quickly snatched it back up, before Lugo could take it from him. “I want real sword, not little mans sword.” Nasir snarled, “You would have been given a sword, if deemed man enough to wield it.” The German finally shut his mouth, stomping over to the other end of the wall, and sat down.

“Lugo, get off your ass, and stand guard properly!” The German jumped to his feet as Oenomaus voice rang through the courtyard. The others laughed, and Nasir let a small chuckle escape his lips, before turning his eyes back to the woods. He would not be taken by surprise again.

He stood silently, watching the woods for any disturbance. “Nasir!” He jumped slightly, and looked down to where the voice had come from. Agron was grinning below him; two of the other gladiators were starting towards the woods. Agron chuckled, “Do not kill Lugo while I am gone.” Nasir laughed, “Where do you go?” Agrons eyes were full of mischief, “you shall see when I return.” Nasir laughed, “Then go.” The gladiator gave him another grin, before turning to follow the others into the woods.

Soon Gannicus joined him on the wall. He was more welcome company that Lugo, but he was supposed to be with Oenomaus instructing the others. “What are you doing up here? Aren’t you supposed to be helping in training?” The former champion shrugged his shoulders, “he seeks to do it alone, and I will not argue with his choice.”

Nasir nodded, remembering what Agron had told him, and turned the subject. “Whose idea was it?” Gannicus laughed, “It was the mad Thracians. He had had the idea for some time, and put it to use last night.” Of course it had been Spartacus’ idea. “Did we startle you,” the Champion taunted. Nasir shot him a glare, “I would have never been taken by surprise, if Lugo had not fallen to fucking sleep.” Gannicus held his hands up in surrender, chuckling. “I do not lay all the blame on you. Your eyes were turned toward the temple, when they should have been to the woods. The lumbering oaf would have been the death of all of us though.”

Nasir nodded, he knew some of the blame still lied on him, but it was reassuring to hear that it was Lugo who received most of it. “What finds you in this cause,” Gannicus asked him. “Why do you ask?” he knew the former champion had expressed doubts in the rebellion. He shrugged, “I am merely curious.” Nasir knew he was lying but decided to humor him, “I stand for this cause, because I will never be subjected to the Romans cruelty again.” Gannicus chuckled, “Your gladiator has nothing to do with it then?” Nasir debated pushing him of the wall, but thought better of it. “He has much to do with it, as anyone with a brain can see.”

“Why do you fight for our cause now? If memory serves, last you left, you were condemning it.” Gannicus stopped chucking, and his shoulders slumped. “When I returned to Capua, I was blind to the Romans, as I had been since I was freed five years before. Asked to execute my brothers, I still did not see it, as past memories still haunted me. After I left, my eyes were opened.”

Nasir was silent for a moment before speaking, “and now you believe in our cause.” Gannicus nodded, a chuckle once again escaping his lips. “I have no choice but to now. Even if I wished to leave it, I have been branded an enemy of Rome along with the rest of you. So I fight with you fools.” Nasir chuckled as well.

Nasir’s eyes turned back to the road, waiting for Agron to reappear. He was anxious to know what Spartacus had sent him to do. The mischief that had been in Agrons eyes always appeared when he had been tasked with sending more Romans to the afterlife. He knew that could not be their only purpose for leaving the temple walls, but it was the only part he was sure about. He would know soon enough though. 


	15. Stubborn Fools

Agron and Crixus walked into the temple, seeking out much needed wine, both to mend their pride, and take away some of the pain from the beating they had just taken from Gannicus and Oenomaus. He could hear Nasir and Naevia whispering behind them, and with a quick glance at Crixus, knew the Gaul could hear them as well.

“Words finally get through stubborn skulls,” Naevia whispered to Nasir. He laughed, “I feared they never would. Agron promised me weeks ago that he would make attempt to settle matters with Crixus, but he still avoided doing it. Stubborn German.”

Naevia smiled, “Crixus promised me likewise, but he avoided doing so as well.  Gaul’s are just as stubborn as Germans.”

“Yet we both have ears of foxes,” Agron said, looking over his shoulder at them. Nasir laughed harder, brushing off Agrons words. The four of them found wine, and began to drink merrily. It was a strange thing, to talk with the Gaul this way. Insults were still thrown out, made in jest instead of attempt to wound pride. He could see Nasir and Naevia whispering more to each other, no doubt discussing how stubborn he and Crixus were.

Another round of sparring was called for by Spartacus, and Naevia and Crixus walked to the courtyard and Agron made to follow, before Nasir yanked him back with surprising strength. Agron gave him a questioning look, as Nasir wrapped one of his hands in the leather cords around Agrons neck, and pulled him down for a kiss. A soft brush of the lips, but Nasir still held him close. “Gratitude, for finally coming to terms with Crixus.” Agron smiled sheepishly, wrapping his arms around Nasir’s waist.

“I would have done it sooner, had I known it would have been this simple.” Nasir laughed, “You still would not have done it. You are far too stubborn for your own good.” Agron rolled his eyes, mulling over Nasirs words, before shrugging his shoulders. Agron knew Nasir spoke the truth. “My stubbornness is only rivaled by your own,” he teased the Syrian. This time it was Nasirs turn to shrug his shoulders. Agron laughed, “You admit to it then?” Nasir looked up to meet the blue eyes above him, “Never.”

He pulled Agron by his necklace into the corridor, away from prying eyes. The Syrian still had his hand wrapped around the necklace and used it to tug Agrons face to meet his once again, but instead of a soft brushing of lips, he pressed hard against them, hungrily devouring every noise Agron made. He could feel Nasir’s hand on the small of his back, nails digging in to it. They would leave marks, but he didn’t care. He actually liked it when Nasir left them.

He could already feel himself hardening, and pushing his hips up against Nasir, while his hands went to other devices. He blindly pushed and tugged, until Nasir’s vest was on the floor beside them. He admired the freshly exposed skin, and worked his lips over it, leaving a wet trail of kisses. Nasir threw his head back, and Agron eagerly took advantage of that, kissing and nipping at his Syrians neck. A gentle touch pulled his face back up to Nasirs again. The Syrian coaxed his mouth open, and his tongue met Agrons, before pulling away and biting his lip.

Agron couldn’t help but grin. Both of them were insufferable teases, each attempting to drive the other to their limit. They both played the game well, but this was one that Agron often lost, the only one he would ever willingly accept defeat in. His Syrian had more skill than him, but Agron had already learned a few tricks from him.

One of Agrons hand firmly grasped Nasir’s hip, to keep him still, while the other trailed down the Syrians side, grabbing onto his thigh and pulling it up over his hip. Nasir bucked slightly, but Agron kept him firmly in place. He pressed his hips further against Nasir; he could feel the Syrian already hardened under his breeches. Nasir released his hold on the leather cords around his neck, wrapping his arms around the gladiator’s shoulders instead. He pulled himself up to meet Agrons lips, but the gladiator kept them just out of reach. Nasir gave a low growl, before latching onto the skin around his neck instead.

“Well aren’t you a wild little dog,” he mumbled, his brain could barely even form a cohesive thought.

Nasir glared at him half-heartedly, taking Agrons lower lip in his and biting down on it. “A dog that still bears teeth,” he answered devilishly.

Then Nasir leg was free of his grasp, and he was being pushed back against the wall behind them. He always underestimated the hidden strength Nasir had. The Syrian’s lips trailed over Agrons chest, first the scar over his heart, then teasing bites to his nipples. Those beautiful lips traveled lower over his stomach, and he could feel his muscles spasm from Nasir’s touch. The Syrian worked at his subligarium, and it soon fell to his feet. He didn’t even have a moment to think, before Nasir’s lips were trailing along his cock. He moaned, his hands gripping at the stone wall behind him, eyes furrowed shut. Smaller hands covered his, pinning them against it, as Nasir took him into his mouth. By the gods how the Syrian could work him. Nasir knew every part of him to exploit, and showed no mercy. The gladiator was soon whimpering under the touch. Just when he thought he could take it no more, the warm mouth around his cock was gone.

He opened his eyes, and Nasir was standing back up, leaning into the gladiator. Agron slow brain realized that Nasir was still clothed, and he would see that quickly remedied. He quickly turned Nasir in his arms, and pinned him against the wall, so they were now back to front. His hands easily undid the belt that held up Nasir’s breeches, and pushed them from his hips to the floor. Nasirs hands now scrambled to find purchase on the wall, and Agron took one of them into his own and held it against the wall. He quickly swept his tongue over the fingers on his other, and slowly trailed them down Nasir’s back.

Nasir moaned under the touch, his hand gripping tightly onto Agrons. The gladiator grinned pressing his face to his Syrians shoulder, as his fingers trailed lower still, gently brushing over Nasirs hole. He arched his back, pushing against Agrons chest. Agron teased more, pressing his lips to Nasir’s shoulders. “Agron,” Nasir moaned, it was both a warning and a plea. Agron obliged, pushing one finger into Nasir, and began to stretch him. The Syrian was already trembling in his arms. A second finger followed, and Nasir gripped Agrons hand tighter. Nasir shifted his head slightly, turning it to the side. Agron immediately pressed his lips to Nasirs, savoring the taste of his lips.

He removed his fingers, and Nasir let out a noise of protest that Agron quickly swallowed. He guided his cock to Nasir’s entrance, and slowly pushed until he was completely sheathed. Nasir’s heart was racing, and he stilled himself for a moment, and allowed Nasir to catch his breath. The Syrian pushed back against him, wanting more. He took Nasirs other hand in his, their fingers intertwining, and held it against the wall as well. He rolled his hips slowly, but soon picked up the pace. They were both moaning, not caring if anyone heard them.

With every thrust of his hips, he could see Nasir coming undone more and more. The two sides of Nasir never failed to fascinate him. The side that Nasir normally held around the others, one that was reserved and quiet; and the side of him whenever he was with Agron, his voice often ringing out in laughter and teasing, and how sinful he was in bed. 

He pressed his lips to Nasir’s shoulder once again, thrusting faster and faster. He knew Nasir was close to his release, and with another thrust, he could feel the other mans muscles tightening around him. He didn’t stop though; he would see Nasir through it. He paused as Nasir caught his breath, and pulled away slightly. “No,” the Syrian panted, his forehead leaning against the wall, “finish inside me.” He nodded, words escaping him as he to tried to catch his breath. He pressed back against Nasir, and resumed the pace that had sent Nasir to his release. A few thrusts later and he found his release deep inside his Syrian, sinking his teeth into Nasir’s shoulder.

Agron slumped slightly against the smaller man, shaking slightly. His muscles were groaning in exhaustion, but he ignored it. His brain was starting to form thoughts again, and he knew they would soon be discovered, as they had already been gone a long while. He brushed his lips against Nasirs shoulders, before turning him in his arms. Nasir slumped against the wall, brown eyes gazing up at him intently. Those eyes that held a fire so hot, it would challenge the underworld; that right now could melt even the coldest man’s heart, with how they gazed at Agron. Twin smiles broke out on their faces, and they started to laugh.

Agron heard voices approaching, and they quickly pulled on their clothes, but not quick enough to escape discovery. Nasir had just snatched his vest off the floor when Saxa and Mira turned the corner and found them. They both paused, and grins of amusement overtook their faces.

“ _So this is where you have been all this time brother_ ,” Saxa commented. Agron shrugged his shoulders, and could see Nasir blushing slightly. This was the second time Mira had caught them, and she seemed to be just as amused as the first time.

“You could not wait to fall to bed?” she teased, her eyes on Nasirs vest. Nasir face burned brighter red, but he met Miras eyes. “We were the only ones in the temple, there was no need to wait,” he replied slyly.

Mira and Saxa laughed. “You are both to stubborn for your own good.” Blue eyes met brown ones, as they both doubled over in laughter.


	16. Romans

Nasir could faintly hear the drunken songs of the Germans wafting down the corridor. He grumbled and pulled the blanket covering him and Agron up over his head, trying to drown them out. The Germans lost all sense when they drank, caring naught for those who were attempting to sleep within the temple. There yelling became louder, and instead of drunken laughter, it was filled with fear. Then he heard one word, one that he had long dreaded hearing. “Romans!” The cry rang through the temple, and both he and Agron bolted up.

Nasir snatched his vest off the floor, quickly throwing it on. He reached over to grab his sword from the pile in the corner, only to find Agron holding it. He held out his hand, and Agron placed it in his waiting hand, but did not release it.

“You have never fought in battle, as many of us have. This will not be a brief fight, but a battle, long and hard. The Romans know nothing of how we fight, they only know the Roman way. Fight as a gladiator, and they will all fall before your sword.” The last of his words were said with a grin, and Nasir grinned as well.

“I will send every one of them to the fucking afterlife.” Agron released his hold on Nasir’s sword, and he buckled it to his side. He saw a small glint of steel on the ground, and picked it up. It was the dagger Agron had given him back at the villa, as a last form of defense, should his sword be knocked away from him. He tucked it into his belt, and pulling the fabric of his vest over it. He looked back at Agron, who gave him a knowing nod.

They started to leave there room, but when they reached the door, they both paused, looking at each other. Their lips briefly met, and in that kiss was everything they wished they could tell the other. It was the same as when Agron had departed for the arena. A brief kiss, one that masked the fear they would never see each other in this world again.

They pushed past the ones who were fleeing to the back of the temple, where the tunnel was. They were the ones who were unable to fight.

Spartacus’ words stoked a fire in all of them, one that would not be easily put out. They had all tasted freedom, and would never again submit to slavery. Nasir knew he would rather die, than ever be some Romans plaything again.

Spartacus took Crixus, Agron, Donar, and Gannicus to hold the Romans off for a while, before they reached the temple. Mira and several of the others who favored the bow went as well. He stayed in the temple with the others, ready to fight.

Not long after, Agron, Crixus, and Donar were running back into the temple, shouting for them to take position.

He could hear the cries of the Romans as they breached the wall; the roars of the gladiators as they sent the Romans to the fucking afterlife. He rushed out, dealing death to any who stood before him. His sword was soon slick with Roman blood. The clash of steel was in his ears, as he blocked every blow, before thrusting his sword home. He saw little of the battle raging around him, only catching brief glimpses. Arrows took down many of the Romans on the wall. Oenomaus was a beast, killing Roman after Roman with a single blow. Saxa easily took down a Roman twice her weight, her daggers flying through the air.

“Lay down your arms! Do it!” Nasir briefly glanced up from the Roman he had just stabbed. The man who had spoken was a Praetor of Rome, being led by Spartacus and Gannicus, and was forced to his knees.

“Now we have steel!” Spartacus yelled. Nasir yelled, grabbing a dagger from the Roman on the steps. “Gather their weapons!” Those who had none quickly stripped the dead and dying Romans of them, gladly replacing them with the makeshift ones they currently possessed. Nasir looked for Agron in all the chaos, and found him at the top of the steps. He had blood on him, but he saw no wounds. He let a small sigh of relief. Agron met his eyes, and gave him a nod, which Nasir returned. He looked back to the Praetor, and the look he was giving Spartacus, Nasir knew this battle was not over.

“Spartacus!” Mira yelled. Nasir looked up, and saw a flaming rock flying at the temple. They had no time to take cover. It hit the ground, flying through the temple courtyard, killing several of the soldiers. Another one swiftly followed. He fell back up the steps, trying to avoid the second one. Agron clasped his forearm, pulling him to his feet and up the steps. The rocks were coming faster, with less time between each one. One took out a section of the wall, and several brutal looking men ran through the opening first, followed by soldiers.

The gladiators rushed out to meet them, and he took position between Mira and Naevia, killing any who came within reach of his sword. The stream of soldiers never stopped though. For every one that they killed, another stepped forward to take his place. Nasir could feel his sword growing heavy in his hand, but he wouldn’t give in to the exhaustion. He knew if he did, he would die.

“Fall back! Into the tunnel!” Spartacus yelled.

Nasir reluctantly obeyed, grabbing Naevia and pulling her along with him. Mira had already gone to the tunnel.

“Crixus-“ she panted.

“He will follow, as he promised.”

The others were screaming, all of them terrified as they made their way through the tunnel. Donar pushed him in line, “Protect them.” He quickly ran through the tunnel, and as he emerged he observed Mira with her bow drawn, an arrow already in place, ready to fire.

He could see the fire burning in the temple, and watched the woods around them, knowing the Romans would find them. As the last of them emerged from the tunnel, a shrill scream ran out. The healer who had tended to him had a spear through her chest. He could barely hear as Spartacus ordered them up the mountain. They all ran to the path, before the Romans could kill more of them.

He looked behind him, and saw Agron helping Gannicus with the wounded Oenomaus. It was an unsettling sight, to see the former Doctore, who was already a legend among the gladiators, so wounded. Oenomaus would survive though, he knew that much. Such a legend would not be toppled so easily.

The higher they climbed, the colder it became. The wind gusted harder, and he bowed his head against it. The path was narrow and rocky, and they did not reach the peak of the mountain until past dawn. The sun did little to warm them though.

The remaining rebels threw themselves upon the rocky ground, but none could find sleep. They had escaped the Romans, but now they faced the brutality of Vesuvius.

 


	17. Vesuvius

Vesuvius was merciless to the surviving rebels. The few small fires they had managed to start did little to warm them, and the little food they could find among the rocks with bitter and tough. The nights were unbearably cold, and days were little better. Nasir shivered slightly as another gust of wind took the mountain, but did not move from where he sat. A few of the men kept watch at various points around the mountain, but there was little use in it. The only way up the mountain was the path they had fled upon, and he knew the Romans would not attempt to take the mountain. They would wait until starvation drove them out.

Nasir had only taken the watch because he wanted to be away from the suffering of the others. He could see the Roman army below them, camped not far from the temple they had only days before called home. He could see the roaring fires between the trees, plenty more than should have been necessary in the small camp. He growled, he had no doubt that those many fires were a taunt to the freezing rebels, daring them to leave the mountain and warm themselves.

He glared down at those fires, wishing to see them permanently extinguished, as well as all the lives of the soldiers. A few rocks rolled past him, and he looked for the source. It was Nemetes, leading Saxa and several of the other Germans down the path.

“Nemetes! What are you doing?”

Nemetes glared back up at him, “We will not sit here and wait for the fucking Romans. We shall take the fight to them.” Before he could protest, they were gone.

Nasir shouted for the others on watch. Gannicus was the first to reach him, and before he could even ask, Nasir was already telling of Nemetes foolish plan. The Celt cursed and ran back towards their camp, Crixus immediately followed; Agron paused for a moment looking at Nasir with confusion. “Go with them,” he ordered Agron. He nodded, and quickly followed Gannicus and Crixus.

Nemetes was a fool, if he believed that they could take Romes soldiers. They had neither the skill of the gladiators or the soldiers, and would never be able to kill them all.

Spartacus soon led the others down the path, attempting to stop Nemetes. He watched from the top of the path, waiting for them all to return, praying they would all come back unscathed.

The Gods would not answer them. Mira was in Spartacus’ arms, and when he laid her down, he could see the life flowing from her. Spartacus ordered him to heat his sword in the fire, and he quickly obeyed, but he feared it was already too late. His wound had been small but deep. Mira’s was gaping open, the blood pouring from it.

Naevia confirmed his fear, and he bowed his head in grief. She did not deserve to die, not today. Not after all she had done. He could see the tears forming in Naevia’s eyes when he knelt beside Mira, taking her limp hand in his. She was beautiful, even in death. He comforted himself with the knowledge that she was now truly free, she would no longer be hunted as fugitivus, or live in fear of the Romans.

~~~*~~~

Nasir watched as Naevia swung her sword at Ashur. He had heard many tales of the treacherous Syrian, and wanted nothing more than for Naevia to end his life. After all the man had done to her, she deserved to be the one to take his life, and see him to the deepest pits of the underworld. Ashur was the reason she had been cast out of the House of Batiatus, condemned to the mines, and the whims of the men who forced themselves upon her.

The day she had been brought to his Dominus’ villa was forever etched into his memory.

_“Dominus.” Egnatius looked up at him, scowling. “Men approach.” He nodded at Tiberius, and left his study, making his way to the entrance of the villa. He followed several steps behind. The guards opened the door as Egnatius sat upon a one of the gilded couches, and three men walked in. Two of them held a woman between them, as she fought to escape their grasp._

_“What is this?” his Dominus demanded, as he eyed the girl. It was a look Tiberius was all too familiar with. The guard in the lead quickly stepped forward, and bowed his head. “Apologies for the disruption. We bring a gift from the House of Batiatus, on orders of our Dominus.”The guard motioned to the girl, and she was pulled forward, into the light._

_“Batiatus,” Egnatius sneered. He got up, and made his way to the girl. Tiberius instantly followed. Egnatius roughly took the girls face in his hand, turning it. She had a scar across her face, and he could see fresh bruises across her entire body. He could tell this was not the first Dominus she had been_ gifted _to. She boldly met his Dominus’ eyes, glaring at him, still fighting to free herself from the guards who held her captive. “And what does good Batiatus ask in return for this gift?”_

_The guard shook his head. “He asks for nothing. Simply a gesture of good will between friends.”_

_Egnatius nodded thoughtfully, his lips curling over his teeth. “What beauty.” He circled the girl, pausing when he was at her back. “She was a body slave?”_

_The guard nodded, “To the Domina of the house.”_

_Egnatius laughed cruelly, “And what did such a beauty do, to see herself fall from such position?” Dominus’ eyes looked over at him and he immediately lowered his to the floor. The message being sent to him was clear. His position was coveted by many of the slaves in the villa, and there would always be someone willing to replace him, should he fall from his Dominus’ favor._

_“She betrayed the Domina of the house, and has been condemned to the mines for her crimes, but not before having her beauty put to final use,” the guard sneered. Egnatius laughed again._

_“Good Batiatus. Never wasteful,” he stood in front of the girl again. “And how long do I have to enjoy this gift?”_

_“As long as you desire.”_

_Egnatius laughed again, “then I shall take advantage of it.” He motioned for his guards to take the girl. In the moments she was being exchanged between hands, she attempted to free herself, only for one of the guards holding her to hit her hard across the face._

_“I like the fight in this one,” Egnatius said, “I shall break it though.”_

_The guards dragged her to Dominus’ bed chamber, roughly throwing her upon his bed. The young womans eyes met his, and he could see the plea for help. He felt such pity and remorse. He wished he could help her, but he could not. He was but a slave and he had to obey the will of his Dominus._

_Egnatius pulled of his robes, throwing them to Tiberius. He quickly caught them, and placed them on the chest next to him._

_“Please,” the women begged, tears streaming down her face. His heart tightened in his chest. He did not know if she was begging him for help, or begging Egnatius for mercy. He could not meet her eyes, shame swelling up in him._

_He kept his eyes on the floor, not wishing to see his Dominus defile her, but he could not escape the sounds of her screams and pleas. Dominus struck her across the face and she cried out in pain. She still fought though, refusing to submit. He silently wished she would, for the faster she gave in, the faster she would be released. A lesson he had learned years before. He had not fought, how could he, without risking his life? But he had quickly learned that the faster he gave pleasure, the faster he was freed from the dreaded deed._

_Egnatius laughed, and he forced himself upon the poor girl. She cried out again, and her screams were muffled. Again and again, his Dominus forced himself upon her. Egnatius was determined to break her though, as he broke all of his slaves._

_Her cries slowly lessened, the fight in her slowly draining away. He silently begged her to keep fighting, not to give in to him. After seeing such fire in her, he regretted his previous plea. It had been a long while since his Dominus had taken the girl, and at long last stepped off the bed, a cruel smile upon his face._

_“It seems Batiatus did not know how to break his slaves, as I do.” Egnatius was looking at him, waiting a reply. “No Dominus, he did not,” he quietly replied. He knew the girls eyes were on him, and he could not meet them. Egnatius’ laugh filled the room and he called for the guards to take the girl away._

_Tiberius helped his Dominus dress, and the girl was dragged from the room. He watched as they took her. She no longer fought against their grip; the fire in her was gone._

_**_

_He had sought Naevia out, after Agron had left with Spartacus to free those who had been captured in the mines._

_He found her, sitting on the steps of the temple, looking up at the stars. It was late, and most were asleep deep with the temple._

_He sat down beside her, hiding his grimace of pain. His arm circled his wound, and looked up at the stars for a moment, before bowing his head in shame._

_“Can you ever forgive me?” he quietly asked. He feared she hated him, would denounce him in front of the others, as he rightfully deserved._

_She looked at him, and he could not meet her eyes.”I never placed blame on you,” she replied, just as quietly. Small hands gently cupped his face, turning it so that he looked at her. He had expected to see hatred and anger in her eyes, but just as before, there was nothing but love and tenderness._

_“I never placed blame on you,” she repeated, “do not place blame on yourself. The fault lies with none, except for Lucretia and Batiatius, for they are the ones who condemned me.”_

_He nodded, and wrapped his arm around her, offering what little comfort he could. There was one thing he had longed to see in her eyes, but the fire was still absent from them._

_**_

The fire was back now, threatening to burn the entire world around them, as she overpowered the Syrian. She would at last claim her vengeance.

It took three slashes of the sword, and Ashur’s head was parted from his body. His cheer was one of the loudest, as Crixus embraced Naevia.

~~~*~~~

Nasir watched as Agron disappeared over the side of the cliff. His grip on the rope was tight, and his heart leapt into his throat more than once as his gladiator slowly made his way down the side of the mountain. It was sheer rock, and impassable for the Romans, but not for the rebels. It felt like an eternity, before all the ropes suddenly went slack, startling them all.

Nasir instantly released the one he had been holding and ran to the foot of the cliff, his eyes scanning the forest below them. Agron and the others were to make their way through it, and signal to the others when to leave the mountain.

Soon the signal came, with a molten rock flying though the air at the temple. Rome’s own weapons were now to be used against her soldiers. The thought brought a devilish grin to his face, as they silently made their way down the mountain.

They fell upon Rome’s soldiers before they could even defend themselves, sending many of them to the afterlife. A few pleaded for mercy, but the rebels would not give it. To long they had been at the mercy of the Roman’s, and they would give none in return. Everyone who stood before him died.

He caught brief glimpses of Agron, enough to assure him that his gladiator was alive, before he was forced to defend himself once again.

Some of the soldiers escaped them and fled back to the temple. They would be trapped inside, as Rome’s soldiers would never make use of the tunnel as they had. Before the Romans had any time to formulate a plan, the rebels were upon them, pulling themselves onto the wall and leaping down onto the soldiers below them.

The last of the soldiers fell to their swords.  

Except for one.

Glaber.

Spartacus had thrust his sword through the mans chest. “The Roman finally learns his place before us,” Spartacus said, “on his knees.”

Glaber glared up at Spartacus, and his hatred for the Thracian contorting his face.

“You have won nothing,” the praetor was choking on his blood, “Rome will send legions in my wake, and one day soon you shall fall to deservant end!”

Nasir’s eyes were focused on Spartacus. The Praetor spoke the truth, and they all knew it. “Perhaps, yet it is not this day!” The Thracian cried out, and thrust his sword down Glabers throat.

His body fell to the ground, and Nasir had never been so relieved to see someone fall to the afterlife. Glaber was the reason Duro was dead. Spartacus’ wife. Mira. Countless others. With his death, they finally had their vengeance.

“Let Rome send their legions, we will face them and see all follow Glaber in death!” Spartacus cried out.

Spartacus would lead them to victory, and Rome would burn before them all. 


End file.
